Under Duress
by Morrowyn
Summary: Midoriya Hanabi's mother is ill, so she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Fem!Izuku. Soulmate AU.
1. Chapter 1

Midoriya Hanabi allowed her heart to quail one last time before she steeled her nerves. She took a deep, steadying breath and then a step. Before her loomed the high walls of the Todoroki compound, more akin to a prison complex than a family home. There were guards—guards!—patrolling the scenic mountainside surrounding the house, making Hanabi's approach even harder than it had to be. Of course, if guard rotations were enough to dissuade her, she would have abandoned her quest weeks ago, instead of memorizing their patrol routes. It hadn't even been that hard. A small part of her wondered if they were just for show; the odds of someone breaking into _Endeavor's_ home were probably really low, right?

Then again, there she stood.

Shaking her head to clear it, Hanabi tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack as she carefully picked her way through the underbrush to her chosen entrance. It was a literal hole in the wall, a barred drain for what was undoubtedly an expensive ornamental stream of some sort. With a grimace, she stepped into the water, ignoring how it soaked into her favorite sneakers. Raising a shaking hand, she called on her quirk and pushed heat into the metal bars of the gate, melting them with very little effort. She was in.

Now, the hard part.

Her heart was pounding in her ears as she stepped into an ostentatious courtyard. It was very traditional, just like the home itself, and Hanabi felt a bit guilty for damaging it. A small voice assured her that Endeavor could more than afford to fix a broken grate and she moved on. She'd rewatched HeroTV's Todoroki house tour a dozen times, memorizing as much as she could of the layout. From where she stood, Endeavor's office was only a short ways to the left, and the hero, himself, shouldn't be home for another couple of hours due to a scheduled press conference regarding one of his recently closed cases.

So far, so good.

Quickly, she dashed across the courtyard, eager to be done and on her way. Her mother was waiting for her, after all. She spent precious moments removing her shoes and hid them under the raised porch. Muddy shoe prints would give her away, for sure. Not that wet sock prints were much better…

Another breath abated her worries, and she crept through the mansion, keeping careful track of the corridors she passed.

Finally, she slid the door to the office aside, closing it behind her with a quiet sigh. The room looked much as it had during the televised tour, with high shelves filled with thick books and photographs. The large desk was neat, with few papers out of place. Good. That way her addition would be noticed immediately.

Swinging her backpack off, Hanabi unzipped it and pulled out the manila folder which had driven her to B&E. Although tempted, she didn't look inside—she'd memorized the contents ages ago—and placed it gingerly onto the desk, aligning it carefully. Belatedly, she realized she probably should have worn gloves. Oh well. Fingerprints were the least of her worries, anyway.

She kneeled down and closed her backpack. She'd just swung it back onto her back when the door slid open behind her.

She froze.

How? Endeavor was at a press conference, his sons were at school, his daughter at work. She'd covered all her bases, even skipping school to be sure no Todorokis would be home. Who could be behind her?

As soon as she thought it she knew it was a stupid question. There was only one person who could give off so much heat without actually being on fire.

Well, besides her, of course.

With a sigh, she stood and turned to face the world's Number Two Hero, the most successful hero in history, Endeavor. He, in turn, looked down at her, his face much kinder without the flames in his hair but still somehow cold. His pale blue eyes held nothing but contempt for her and his mouth was twisted in a sneer. Before he could speak, she bowed low, her eyes on his socks.

"I'm so sorry," she said earnestly. "I haven't taken anything, I swear. I—."

"Shut up." His voice was deep and commanding and Hanabi was quick to comply. "Save it for the police."

A chill ran down her spine, but she'd known arrest was a possibility when she set out on this foolhardy mission. Maybe she should have asked Kachan for help. He would have talked her out of it before she got this far.

"Yes," she said, wringing her hands as she straightened. "I'm sorry."

He shoved his way past her, nearly sending her to the ground with the force of it. Hanabi followed his movements as he made a show of checking the room for missing items. She saw the moment his eyes landed on the folder. His face twisted further, like he'd swallowed something foul.

"I don't take private requests."

Hanabi nodded. "I know, sir."

His pale eyes held hers. "I don't give autographs, either."

"I know."

He scoffed and picked up the folder. He had to notice the way Hanabi stiffened, but he didn't say anything. He opened the folder and froze. He stood still for a long moment before sinking into the fancy leather chair behind the desk, a large hand running through his red hair. He visually deflated, his broad shoulders hunching inward as he sighed heavily.

"Why did you bring me this?"

Hanabi thought she might have heard a waver in his deep voice, but that might have been her own wishful thinking.

"I…I thought you might be able to help." She twirled a lock of her green hair around her index finger, biting her lip nervously. "I..I can't do anything on my own, anymore, so…"

"Look at me."

She did, trying not to fidget as his pale gaze flitted from place to place on her face, his expression souring.

"What's your quirk?"

"Pyrokinesis, sir."

He looked a little pleased at that—if slightly less hostile could be read as pleased. "Only kinesis?"

She looked down and away. "Ah, no, sir. Genesis, as well."

He hummed in what she hoped was approval, looking back to the file and turning the page. "Name?"

"Eh?"

He glared at her. "What's your name, girl?"

Right! "M-my name is Midoriya Hanabi, sir."

He hummed again, standing from his seat with file in hand. He towered over her as he came around the desk to stand before her. She swallowed stiffly as he placed his empty hand on the nape of her neck, thick fingers burrowing into her curls and taking hold.

"Well, then, Hanabi. I believe a trip to the hospital is in store."


	2. Chapter 2

**Endeavor is so OOC, guys, I'm sorry.**

* * *

Todoroki Enji glared down at the teenager in front of him. She, in turn, tried her best to sink into the plush leather of the limousine, her green eyes looking at anything but him. When he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd dismissed everything about her. Now, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She wore her curly green hair pulled into twin tails at the nape of her neck, secured by dark red ribbons which matched the tie of her school uniform. Her face was round with youth and covered in freckles, her eyes round and wide with anxiety. Straight teeth tore at a full bottom lip and he resisted the urge to snap at her. The file she brought him weighed heavily in his hands, its contents on his heart.

There was no way. A large part of him was ready to believe this was a very clever ploy, an attempt by his enemies to embroil him in a scandal. It wouldn't be the first time.

Then her straight brows scrunched in just the right way and he was sure a different girl sat in front of him, one he had pointedly tried to forget for almost fifteen years.

Oh no.

Quickly, he tore his gaze away from the child and instead looked down at his feet. Of course, this meant that her feet were also in view and he scowled. Her shoes were wet and muddy, obviously well worn and repaired at some point. Her stockings, too, had small holes and stiches in places. He was sure that, if he looked, he would find similar faults in her uniform.

Was it any wonder, then, that she'd come to him for help?

Speaking of which…

"How did you get in?"

"Eh?"

He scowled. "You heard me, girl."

"A-ah, yes. Um, I m-melted a grate."

He felt his eyebrows rise. Her fingers twisted in her lap—a painfully familiar habit—and she risked a glance up at him. Her eyes were green but not _her_ shade of green. No, they were lighter, more grass than emerald. The expression in them, however… The fear and anxiety were oh so familiar.

The limousine stopped, and Enji stepped out into the parking garage. "Out."

The girls scrambled out after him, visibly flinching as he slammed the door. She followed behind him meekly, arms wrapped around herself. He led her down to the hero entrance and took a small bit of pride at the way her expression lit up in excitement. The staff there knew better than to ask questions and had taken oaths of silence regarding the comings and goings of heroes, but he knew he'd need to donate a significant sum for little Hanabi to be erased from everyone's minds.

It wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

He stepped up to the reference desk. "I need this patient sent to hero visitation."

The receptionist took the file from him and opened it. His eyes widened. "This went missing last night! How—?" He shrank under Enji's glare. "A-ah, sorry. I'll just be a moment."

Enji turned away with a quiet snarl, tossing a glare down at Hanabi where she cowered beside him. "Went missing?"

She had the grace to look ashamed. "I wasn't about to just place a sticky note on your desk. It had to be something you could verify."

She had a point.

"Hm. Sit."

She sat. He took a seat beside her, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They sat in silence for as long as he could stand it.

"How?"

"E-eh?"

That again. "How did you know to…come to me?"

He watched as a myriad of expressions ran across her face. So open, so familiar.

"W-well," she began hesitantly. "Officially my father is someone named Midoriya Hisashi. Mother always said my quirk was just a stronger version of his fire breathing, but…" She shrugged. "I've never met him, and we don't have any pictures of him. It's been just us for forever. I never really questioned it, until…"

Unease crossed her face and her green eyes darted from side to side as if looking for something. Shakily, she pulled at a loose curl and held it between them. Enji's eyes widened against his will as it lit up in flames. Just as quickly, she extinguished the fire, closing her palm around her hair.

"Obviously, you were my favorite hero, growing up." He was allowed to be proud of that, right? "But it was hard not to notice how much seeing you hurt my mother. Even on TV, you were too much for her. I switched to All Might pretty quickly after that," ugh, "But I was curious. The harder I looked, the more obvious it became."

She was clearly glossing over things, but he'd allow her that. For now.

"And if you were wrong?"

She looked up at him, holding his gaze with a surety reminiscent of her mother in the courtroom. "I'm never wrong."

Well, then.

Before he could question her further, they were called by the receptionist. Together, they walked down the hall to the rooms set aside for hero visitation. He'd never had to use one, himself, as his identity was public knowledge, but there were heroes out there who preferred to keep their loved ones private.

The girl walked right in, calling out to her mother with genuine happiness and receiving it in return. Enji hesitated in the doorway, his mouth dry and hands clammy. He could hear her voice, much softer than he remembered it, full of love and kindness for her daughter. He clenched his fists before wiping his hands on his pants. With self-deprecating scowl, he forced himself into the room.

"Hanabi, what did you do?"

Midoriya Inko looked up at Enji with open horror. Stung, he looked at everything but her green eyes. She'd gained weight, having exchanged the toned slenderness of her youth for a pleasantly plump body which radiated motherhood. There were lines on her face—smile lines, he noticed gladly. They framed a mouth no longer full and called him back to her eyes. There were tears there, not quite falling but still visible, and he felt an old familiar guilt well up inside him at the sight of them.

"You're beautiful."

She flinched as if struck. "You can't be here," she said harshly, crying in earnest now. "Your wife—."

"Would kill me if I left you like this." And she would. Rei had always been outspoken about his relationship with Inko—he'd never kept it a secret—and had insisted he treat her well. And he had, better than he had Rei, until Inko had vanished without so much as a farewell.

Although, he probably knew why, now.

Hanabi sat in a chair beside her mother's hospital bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, gaze lowered. Enji stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed, covering both of Inko's hands with one of his own.

"You could have told me," he said gently, careful to keep his anger from his voice. Inko had never cared for raised voices, for all she made her living as a defense lawyer, and it looked like her daughter was the same. "I could have helped you."

Inko turned away, trying desperately to smother a sob. "I know," she said at last, her voice rough. "I know you would have, Enji. I just…" she reached out for her daughter and Hanabi took her hand. "Can you give us a moment, honey?"

Hanabi glanced up at him before nodding. Once the door closed behind her, Inko's expression crumbled.

"Enji, why are you here? How did you find us?"

He chuckled. "She found me, actually. Broke into my house with a copy of your medical file."

Inko sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That girl."

Something told him this was a recurring sentiment. "Why didn't you stay? You know I would have cared for you—both of you."

She sighed again. "I know Enji. You have no idea how many times I've considered calling you over the years. I just…" she gestured vaguely with one hand and tightened her grip with the other. "I didn't want to be a homewrecker. You already had other children, and I didn't want to further strain your relationship with your wife." She looked up at him, her smile now a twisted thing. "And we both know how you felt about my quirk."

Ah, yes, that. He'd forgotten.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Inko—."

She held up her hand, cutting him off. "Save it, Enji. Hanabi's quirk is strong, but it's not what you were looking for. You married your wife for a reason, after all." Her expression softened some. "Your goal has never been to have a happy family, Enji. Even if you had chosen me, that would have driven us apart." She looked at the door, her smile finally returning. "Hanabi is my life now. As hard as it's been at times, I'll always be grateful to you for giving her to me."

Enji wanted to be upset, but he knew what kind of woman Inko was when he began their affair. The first words she ever said to him were engraved on his chest, following the lines of his clavicle—_I don't care how important you think you are._ They'd aggravated him before he met her. Then again, once he'd lost her. Now, they were just a sad reminder of just how independent his soulmate was.

Her hand on his brought him from his reverie, and he looked down to where he'd been absently tracing his collarbone. Inko had that pained smile on her face again.

"Her's are in the same place, you know. Funny, the things you inherit."

"Hm," he ran his thumb over her knuckles. "She said you needed help."

She sighed again. "Oh, Hanabi. I told her not to worry about that. Really, Enji, you don't need to trouble yourself—."

"It's no trouble," he insisted, tightening his grip on her hands. "You don't need to worry about anything, anymore, Inko. I'll take care of it—of Hanabi. I'll handle it."

She looked up at him with a searching gaze and he felt an irrational surge of anger at how little she trusted him. Then, she gave him a watery smile.

"Alright."


	3. Chapter 3

Hanabi tried her best to keep from crying, she really did, but there was only so much she could do in the face of so much happiness.

"You mean it," she asked breathlessly as tears rolled silently down her face. "You really mean it?"

Endeavor—her father, she reminded herself dazedly—seemed uncomfortable at the sight of her tears, crossing his arms and looking away. "I don't say anything I don't mean."

No, she supposed he didn't. He'd kept every promise to her, so far, and she liked to imagine that was proof of his character. Still, to go this far…

In her hands was an enrollment contract for _Madam Gillette's Ballet Academy_, a place she'd spent much of her childhood while her mother could still afford it. Even when she couldn't, Mrs. Tanaka had made exceptions for them, allowing Izumi to attend rehearsal once a week for free. Recently, she'd stopped going so she could focus on her mother, instead.

She smiled up at him, her cheeks hurting with the width of it. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

He humphed in the way that Hanabi was learning meant he was embarrassed, waving a hand in dismissal.

"The moment you lose your place at the top of your class, this goes, too."

An empty threat, since the school materials had never posed any sort of challenge for her, even at the worst of her mother's illness. Still, he had a reputation, she supposed.

"Yes, sir!"

Endeavor stood from her rickety kitchen table, taking up too much space in the small apartment. He made the same face he always did when confronted by the class divide between them. For a moment, Hanabi feared he might start up the whole 'move in with me' nonsense, again, but he just sighed and left her home without so much as a goodbye. Those were awkward, anyway.

Idly, she wondered how he came and went without being recognized. Sure, without his quirk active he looked a lot less intimidating, but he was still a massive man and his face was plastered on all sorts of merchandise and advertisements. Surely someone would notice…?

Then again, he always came by so early in the morning, maybe there was no one around to see him?

She could hear her alarm going off in her room upstairs, but she was already dressed for school. She had another hour and a half before Kachan came by to pick her up. Guilt welled up in her at the thought of her childhood friend. He was too perceptive, too smart not to see something had changed. She knew he knew, but hadn't yet found the courage to explain things to him. How would she? _Hey, guess what, my dad's frickin' Endeavor. _Yeah, no.

She sighed and began clearing the table. Breakfast with her father was a tedious affair, but one he insisted on. They rarely spoke, but he did eat everything she served him. And then there were days like today, where he proved himself at least capable of taking someone else's interests into consideration. Hanabi smiled at the notion that her father was the only one to listen when she babbled. Even Kachan didn't do that, anymore.

The doorbell rang.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. It was still early. Maybe…maybe he wanted to talk? To finally figure out what she'd been keeping from him? Oh, dear. She wrung her hands, mind racing. How would she tell him? And she _had_ to tell him, he was practically her brother. She'd spent the night at his place so many times since her mother fell ill, all the distance that had grown between them over the years had long since vanished. Keeping a secret of such magnitude had begun to strain their newfound closeness, though, and she hated it. Hated herself for her cowardice.

The doorbell rang, again.

She slapped her hands down on her face, forcing herself back into the moment. "Coming!" she called as she crossed the apartment and opened the door.

The person—person_s_—on her doorstep was not Bakugou Katsuki. Two boys, both tall and striking in appearance, one in a gakuran and the other in a more western highschool uniform. The taller of the two looked down at her with dark grey eyes, his pale brows pulled down into a familiar scowl.

"Ah!" she slapped a hand on her mouth to belatedly smother the sound of realization. She stepped back into the house, waving for them to enter. "Please, come in. I'll get tea."

The tall boy sneered. "We don't want any tea. What the hell was our dad doing here?"

Just as she'd suspected. These were her brothers. Hanabi glanced at the other boy. He was shorter than his brother, and more slender in build. She supposed he probably took after his mother. His heterochromia was striking, with his hair evenly split between their father's red and what must have been his mother's white, as their sibling shared it. A nasty scar marred his handsome face, and Hanabi almost winced in sympathy.

"Having breakfast," she answered honestly, meeting her older brother's gaze. "Want some? I think there are some leftovers—."

He had clearly inherited Endeavor's temper, a vein pulsing in his temple. "Why the hell was he having breakfast with some-some rando?"

She again gestured for them to come in. "P-please, this isn't a c-conversation to be had outside."

The younger brother stepped in, removing his shoes without saying a word.

"O-oi, Shouto! Seriously?"

He scrambled in next, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

Hanabi lead them into the kitchen, pulling out a set of cups and busying herself with tea as they took seats at the table their father had just left. The silence was stifling.

"Is jasmine alright?" She asked quietly, reaching up on her tip toes for the box of teas in the cabinet. "I think I have hibiscus, if you'd prefer that?"

"What did you give our dad?" There was bitterness in her older brother's voice, and she shrank under the weight of it.

"Jasmine is fine."

It was the first time the younger of the two had spoken, and his voice was low and soft, like he didn't use it often. Hanabi nodded without turning around, pouring two cups of tea with shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she said once she'd placed their cups before them and taken her own seat. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is—."

"We don't care about your name," the white haired one interjected angrily. "We came to tell you to end things with our dad, not exchange small talk and drink tea."

Eh.

EH!?

"Y-you think I-I'm h-having….w-with Endeavor?!" Ew, gross, never in a million years, eugh!

Her older brother sneered. "Why else would he come to this run down lot and eat your cooking when he has a five-star chef on staff at the mansion?"

"Fathers are supposed to enjoy their daughters' cooking." The moment she said it, the anger which had allowed her to speak clearly left her, and she looked away, ashamed.

"What did you say?"

It was the younger one—_Shouto_.

They would have found out, anyway, she reasoned to herself. Sure, she'd told her father she wouldn't tell anyone, but she hadn't signed anything, and these were her siblings, besides. Surely, they, of all people, deserved to know. Right?

Right.

She took a shaky breath. "My name is Midoriya Hanabi and Todoroki Enji is my father." She bowed over the table. "It's nice to meet you."

Her brothers were quiet. Then,

"Shit. This is bad."

She looked up to see her pale brother leaning back with his arms crossed, looking very much like their father. He leveled a glare on her.

"A mistress is bad enough, but a bastard? He doesn't give a shit about mom, anymore, does he?"

"A-ah, actually," she interrupted hesitantly. "My m-mother l-left him before I w-was born. H-he didn't even know ab-bout me until l-last week."

The tension did seem to leave him at that, but he was still visibly upset.

"Ok, supposing I believe that, why does he care? This is the kind of thing he normally solves by throwing money at it 'til it goes away. Why are you getting special treatment?"

Wait. Did her father have other illegitimate children out there, somewhere? Wow…

"It might be," she began slowly, her hands twisting in her lap. "Because my mother's his soulmate."

Ice encased her table and she threw herself back with a yelp. The floor, too, was covered in a layer of frost which began creeping up her clothing where it made contact. Instinctively, she called up her quirk and melted the ice, throwing a glare at both of her siblings.

"Really? Was this necessary?" Her breath was fogging, fogging!

The older one—she really needed to learn his name—managed to look sheepish, but Shouto was visibly stewing in anger.

"Look," she said with a confidence born of anger. "Let me give you my number and you can call me about this later. I have to get to school." She really didn't want to think about this anymore.

It turned out the older brother was named Natsuo, and he handed her his phone quite willingly.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you," he said as he took it back. "We just…"

She sighed. "It's fine. I get it. For what it's worth, you're welcome to come by whenever."

"But, what about your mother?"

Hanabi winced. "She's…she won't be home." If anything, Kachan would be the bigger issue.

Shouto didn't offer her his phone. "How old are you?"

"Eh?"

"When is your birthday?"

"O-oh, um, I'm fourteen. My birthday is July 15. Why?"

Something in her answer made him angrier, and frost began creeping up the walls before Hanabi raised the temperature and melted it.

"Sorry, again," Natsuo said, pulling Shouto out the front door behind him. "I'll call you later."

She waved at them from the doorway, the tension finally leaving her shoulders.

"What the shit was that?"

Agh!


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you, Caeoltoiri, for your support!**

* * *

Bakugou Katsuki's leg bounced, the only sign of his agitation that he let himself show. The teacher droned on about the second Quirk War, the words going in one ear and out the other as every instinct demanded he turn around and look at the green haired girl at the back of the classroom. He knew something was going on with her, knew it in his bones, and the weird scene he'd walked in on that morning had confirmed it. Who were those guys? Why the hell were they in her apartment? Where the hell had she met them? Why hadn't she told him about them? _Didn't she trust him?_

All questions she'd promised to answer after school.

As if he needed another reason to hate the damned place.

Everything grated on him, his nerves fraught. His gaggle of empty-headed followers were more annoying than amusing, their hollow flattery ringing so false he ripped out his hearing aids to silence them. Every time he gave in and looked at her, she avoided his gaze—something she hadn't done in ages and that filled him with aimless anger. The entire classroom had been walking on eggshells since that morning, taking obvious care not to provoke his explosive temper.

His leg bounced faster, his eyes trained on the clock above the whiteboard. It was last period, and he'd already gotten one of his lackeys to take up her cleaning duties, so she had one less excuse to delay the inevitable. He'd tried being patient, waiting for her to come to him, and she'd obviously been getting around to it, but after that morning…

The look in that half-n-half fuck's eyes had him fuming. The way he'd looked at her—!

Shit. He'd need another copy of the assignment, now.

He could feel his teeth grinding as his classmates whispered over his loss of control. Shit. She'd seen it, there was no way she hadn't. She probably thought he was pissed at her—he _was_, but not enough to blow—and she'd try even harder to keep whatever secret was driving a wedge between them in a stupid effort to keep him happy. Stupid, self-centered bitch. She wasn't the only thing that pissed him off. If she ever spent more than two seconds outside her own head, she'd know that.

His leg kept bouncing.

Finally, _finally_, the final bell rang, and Katsuki leapt to his feet, swinging his bag over his shoulder in the same movement. She shrank away from him as he stomped up to her and he had to remind himself that this was Hana, _his_ Hana, the only person beside his parents who was both willing and able to dismiss his fits of anger and move past them without forcing him to give a half assed apology. Hana, whose mom was in the hospital dying of some illness his mother refused to name so she could pretend everything was still ok. Hana, who had _promised_ to explain.

He still ended up dragging her behind him for half a block before he stopped, tilting his head back as he let out a long, hissing sigh. She was shaking, he could feel it. Shit. _Shit._

He dropped her hand, shoving his own into the pockets of his pants with a snarl as he kept walking. He didn't have to look to know she was following him—she was always following him. Before, her dependence on him had pissed him off. She was pretty, smart, and had a strong quirk. There was no reason for her to cling to him beyond her own insecurities, and he refused to become a crutch. Now, though…

It was hard to get angry at her for crawling into his bed when she spent the whole night crying into his shirt, now, wasn't it?

Something had changed, though. She was still sad, but she wasn't despondent, and there was a light in her eyes again. He'd seen it that morning, directed at her surprise guests, and had watched as it faded over the course of the day.

_That_, more than anything, pissed him off.

They came to an underpass, and he sank into a crouch in the shade. He looked up at her, bracing his arms on his knees. "Talk."

Her green gaze held his, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she picked idly at her cuticles. "Kacchan, I…I'm sorry."

He scowled in surprise and she rushed to continue, her voice rising half an octave and going breathless in her rambling.

"I-I was going to tell you—really! I j-just wasn't sure how to do it, you know? It's kind of complicated and the longer I waited the harder it got and I didn't want to make you angry—well, angrier—because I know it's gonna make you angry and—."

Shit.

She looked down at him through raised arms, eyes wide and watery. He wiped his hands on his pants, cursing loudly at the smoking holes in the black fabric. His mother would be pissed.

"Hana," she squeaked as he leveled a tired glare on her. "Just fucking say it."

"I found my dad."

_Shit!_

"What the fuck, Hana?" He rounded on her, keeping his hands facing outward as he backed her up until her back hit the concrete wall. "Why the shit didn't you say something?"

She raised her hands between them, hiding a wobbly smile behind crossed wrists. "W-well, he's kind of…you know…a big deal? And I didn't want to tell you because then you'd talk me out of going to him, and—."

Fuck.

"You went to this guy? _Without_ me?"

She shrank in the face of his anger. "Y-yeah. It was s-something I had to do on my own, and if you knew who he was, you'd probably do things publicly, and—."

"Wait, how did _you_ do it?" She looked down and Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do I want to know or will it just piss me off?"

"U-um…"

"Forget it. Just tell me who the fucker is so I can blow his fucking face in."

"K-Kacchan, no, you can't—!"

"A name, Hana."

Silence, then,

"Endeavor."

_Fuck!_

He stood there, panting heavily, arm outstretched to one side where smoke began wafting upward to pool against the belly of the overpass. Hana looked up at him with fear filled eyes, her arms wrapped around her head defensively.

Shit.

"Your dad," the word twisted in his mouth. "Is the number two hero, Endeavor? Rich as shit, big fucking mansion, bigger happy family _Endeavor_?"

She winced, growing smaller and smaller with each added descriptor, but nodded. Katsuki felt his face warp to reflect his anger. What the literal fuck?

"I-I knew you would be angry," she murmured, eyes glassy. "I knew it. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Don't you start that shit," he snapped, taking a step back from her as he struggled to calm himself. "I'm not mad at _you_, Hana. I mean it," he insisted hotly as her brows scrunched in disbelief. "Sure, I'm pissed you went behind my back to do all this shit—especially now that I know who you did it with, what the fuck were you thinking?—but I'm not mad at you."

"Promise?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I fucking promise."

She sniffled, the sound echoing weirdly.

"So," he said after wresting control of his anger, plopping down on the concrete with a solid thump. "What's he doing?"

"E-eh?"

"Did he know about you before you went to him?"

She shook her head and Katsuki was privately glad one of his favorite heroes wasn't as big a douche as he could have been.

"So, now that he knows, what's he doing?"

"H-he's paying for mom's treatment, a-and my tuition. O-oh! And he got me b-back into _Madame_ _Gillette's_!"

Katsuki leapt to his feet, startling his shorter friend with the force of his enthusiasm.

"For real? You better not be fucking with me, Hana."

She rushed to assure him she wasn't, stumbling over her words and even reaching into her backpack for something, but he was beyond waiting. With an exclamation more yell than laugh, he picked her up, hoisting her into the air by her waist and swinging her in a dizzying circle.

"Fucking finally," he said as he set her down, wrapping her up in a full-bodied hug. "Man, it's just not the same without you, Hana."

She returned his embrace timidly, and he silently thanked Endeavor for not being the total dickhead he clearly pretended to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you:**

**MiharuTousaka**

**EggsOnToast**

* * *

"E-eh?"

Hanabi cowered under her father's glare, burying her nose in her coffee mug to hide the embarrassed flush rising in her cheeks.

"You need to cut that out," he hissed through his teeth. "Listen when people speak to you."

"A-ah, yes sir." She cleared her throat. "U-um, I haven't really though about which highschool I'll be attending. I-I mean, beyond my childhood dream of Yuuei, o-of course, but th-that's not really…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

"Why not?"

She looked up at her father, surprised. "E-eh-AH! That is, um, why haven't I thought of it or why not Yuuei?"

The corner of his mouth curled up slightly and he leaned back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest in what she was coming to recognize as his default stance. "Why not Yuuei? I know for a fact you can get into the hero program there."

Hanabi squirmed in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "W-well, I always did want to be a hero, as a kid. I used t-to dream about joining your agency, one day."

"But?"

She sighed, gathering her thoughts before meeting her father's pale gaze head on. "I don't think it would be a good idea. Sure, there isn't much of a resemblance between us, but who's to say someone won't notice our relationship?" She shook her head. "No, the odds of a scandal are too high to risk."

He actually smiled at that, a small, feral thing that transformed his face from stoically attractive to devastatingly handsome. "Is that the only thing holding you back?"

"W-well, no," she admitted, twirling a curl around her finger. "I-I'm just not sure if I have wh-what it takes, you know? I," she swallowed thickly. "I don't think I could use my quirk to hurt someone."

"Even a villain?"

"Villains are people, too, father."

To her surprise, he didn't dismiss her concerns outright. He didn't look happy with them, to be sure, but he wasn't laughing at her the way Kacchan did when she brought up her qualms with heroism. If anything, he seemed to be seriously considering his reply.

"Well," he said after a long moment. "You are Inko's daughter. She always did prefer debates over violence. Your fears are valid, Hanabi," those were _not_ words she'd expected her father to ever say. "But I want you to consider a few things before making up your mind. Tell me, what are the most common quirks among destructive criminals?"

"Elemental quirks," she answered immediately. "Followed closely by mutations."

He nodded. "And what percentage of those elemental quirks are fire?"

"Almost eighty," she said, trailing off as she began to recognize his point.

"Exactly. There are more fire based criminals than there are heroes, Hanabi, and many of those criminals take the next step and become villains. Sure, heroes like Waterhose can counter flames with water, but that takes time and effort better spent neutralizing threats and evacuating victims. Quirks like ours," Hanabi hoped the pride in his voice was more than just her imagination. "Can cut down on the time it takes to wrap up an incident, and even the damage to an area if we do it right. Also, it's important to show kids with inherently destructive quirks that they don't have to go down a path of villainy, and fire quirks just happen to be both destructive and flashy."

Hanabi was suddenly reminded that her father was the best in his field. Not number one, but objectively the best. His quirk alone wouldn't have been enough to solve the hundreds of cases under his belt. Clearly, her intelligence came from both sides of her family.

"I…I'll think about it."

Her father stood, looking down at her sternly, but not unkindly. "Sign up for the exam. You have almost a year to think about it, but at least sign up."

Then he left.

Hanabi sat alone at her kitchen table, sipping at lukewarm tea. Being a hero had been her dream, once, as it was everyone's. She knew for a fact that every single student in her class was applying to hero courses across the country, although Kacchan was likely the only one applying to Yuuei. He'd probably be mad if she applied, too. He had his whole backstory planned…

The doorbell rang.

Vividly aware of what happened the last time someone rang her doorbell after her father left the apartment, Hanabi checked her phone. Nothing from Natsuo, but it could be Shouto, though she doubted it. He didn't seem to like her very much—or, rather, the idea of her. Kacchan had a key, now, and had zero qualms barging right in whenever he pleased. So, it was either a very diligent postman, or a stranger. Wait, no, it was Sunday, so no postman. That left…

Paparazzi…

Cautiously, she opened the door, peeking out into the hall.

Oh.

There on her doorstep was what could only be another of her siblings. She was older than Natsuo, but she had the same white hair, though hers had streaks of red running through it, kind of like Shouto's. Her face was more like Shouto's, with kind, round grey eyes behind red rimmed glasses. She smiled at Hanabi.

"Oh, hello! I, um, this is the Midoriya residence, yes? I, ah, I would like to speak with Midoriya Hanabi, if I may."

Hanabi pushed open the door, gesturing for her sister to come in. "Please, make yourself at home."

The young woman thanked her quietly and removed her shoes, crossing the apartment to take up the seat their father had just left. Did he know all his kids were meeting like this? Or were they super sneaky?

"Would you like some tea?" Hanabi asked quietly. "I bought a few different types just in case anyone came by, again."

Her sister blanched. "I am so sorry about them. I told them not to come, but they had to know what father was up to."

Hanabi held up her hands. "No, no, don't worry about it! I'm just glad I got to meet them!"

Her sister looked away, taking a deep breath before speaking. Hanabi had to wonder if their father had scolded her for the same things, and she took a soft sort of comfort in that.

"My name is Fuyumi," she said softly. "Natsuo told me this was the best time to meet with you without father knowing about it. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, but I'm a teacher, so Sundays are my only day off."

Hanabi smiled. "Don't worry about it. Really. I'm just happy you wanted to come by, at all."

Fuyumi smiled, too. "You're too kind. Natsuo told me a little about what happened. You can't have expected things to go any better, this time."

Hanabi shrugged, twirling a curl around her finger. "I thought it went well, all things considered. It certainly could have gone worse."

Fuyumi's smile grew. "Knowing Shouto, it really could have."

So, her brother had a temper. She already knew that, though.

"So," Fuyumi seemed to fumble for a moment. "Tell me about yourself. I've always wanted a sister you know. I've been the only girl for so long."

Hanabi smiled eagerly. "What do you want to know?"


	6. Chapter 6

**I have changed some of the tags for this fic. I originally had Izuku in the character tags since Hanabi is technically just a genderbent Izuku, but I've been told that's misleading. So I changed it to OC and added a relationship tag. Hope that clears things up.**

**Thank you to:**

**MiharuTousaka**

**DominoDuh**

* * *

Hanabi swallowed stiffly as she looked up at Yuuei's towering campus. Where did they get the funding for such large buildings? Their acceptance rate was abysmal. How much of their income was donations from alumni?

"Hey," Kacchan bumped her shoulder, looking down at her with a serious expression. "You good?"

She shook herself, grip tightening on the straps of her yellow backpack. "Yeah, thanks, Kacchan."

He scoffed, a sneer twisting his otherwise handsome face. "Whatever, the hag would kill me if I let you chicken out."

Ah, typical Kacchan.

Hanabi smiled despite her friend's surly attitude. "Come on, we should check in."

"That's what I've been saying!"

She laughed a little under her breath as she rushed past him, only to trip over her own feet and go flying forward. Closing her eyes, she braced for impact—.

Eh?

Opening her eyes, she looked up at a girl with brown hair and rosy cheeks. Her brown eyes were wide as she helped Hanabi back onto her feet and then pressed her hands together, dispelling the strange weightlessness that was starting to make her sick.

"I'm sorry," she said a little breathlessly. "I know I shouldn't have used my quirk like that, but it seemed like bad luck to fall today, you know?"

Hanabi nodded dazedly, mind swirling with questions as she stammered out a thanks. Behind her, Kacchan snorted.

"Nice going, bitch. Too bad Round Face caught you."

Hanabi shoved him gently, a blush burning her face. "S-shut up."

He cackled.

The written exam was…easy. Too easy. Hanabi let out a small sigh of relief, certain that both she and Kacchan had passed that part, at least.

Of course, Yuuei's entrance exam wasn't famed for its written portion…

She grabbed ahold of Kacchan's uniform, letting him lead her through the swarm of students in the massive auditorium. Bodies jostled her, but Kaachan's scowl kept most people at a distance. They settled into their seats.

"Ah!" She tugged on Kacchan's sleeve. "That's Present Mic!"

"Tch," he pulled his arm away from her. "No shit."

She bounced in her seat, unperturbed by her friend's brush off. Everyone knew Yuuei's staff were majority pro-heroes, but actually seeing it in person? Even failing would be worth it.

As Present Mic explained the practical exam, she looked down at the slip in her hand and then snuck a peak at Kacchan's.

"Aw," she said quietly. "I guess we won't be in the same area, huh?"

He glared at the papers so fiercely Hanabi feared they might catch fire. "Whatever, it doesn't fucking matter. I'll crush you anyway."

Aw, thanks for the vote of confidence, Kacchan.

"You two!" They looked down at a tall boy standing a few rows down from them, the auditorium lights glaring against his glasses. "You've been whispering this whole time! If you're not going to take this seriously, leave!"

"W-what?"

"The fuck was that, four-eyes?"

Hanabi reached out and wrapped her arms around his, holding him down in his seat before he could launch himself at the other student. "Kacchan, not here!"

"Tch!"

Luckily, Present Mic reclaimed the spotlight before Hanabi could melt under the weight of so many stares.

"Alright, listeners! It's time to get to your battle centers! Remember, Plus Ultra!"

Hanabi tightened her grip on Kacchan, an anxious squeak escaping her as students began pouring out of the auditorium.

"Hey, bitch, let me go! We don't have time for this!"

He was right, of course. He often was. Still, Hanabi raised her eyes imploringly, meeting his red gaze straight on.

"No. Stop that. You need to go to your battle center."

She shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Aw, look, someone brought their girlfriend."

Kacchan shook her off violently and she stumbled back. He scowled at her as he left for his own testing area, and she felt even smaller than usual.

No! She shook her head and steeled her heart. She had to do this. She'd promised to try, and even her mother was excited for her. She had to do this.

Newly resolved, she made her way to battle center B and into the changing rooms. Her father had provided her with some flame resistant clothing—she didn't even want to know how much it all cost—and she changed quickly. The color scheme made her laugh a little—red and blue did _not_ suit her the way they did her father—but her reflection was doing wonders for her confidence. A blue tank top tucked into high waisted blue sweatpants with red stripes running down the side to red, Endeavor brand tennis shoes. As obnoxious as she felt, wearing her own father's merch, she had to admit she liked it. Even the little Endeavor hair ties holding her riotous curls in check. In a way, if almost felt like her father was there with her.

Ugh, she was embarrassing.

With one last glance at her reflection, she left the changing room and joined the other hundred odd students in her testing area. There were so many interesting quirks! Eye catching mutations drew attention immediately, and there were a few smaller displays of emitter types like her own.

Ah! It was the girl from that morning!

Hanabi smiled and walked toward the other girl, happy jitters welling up in her chest. She'd never really had a female friend, before, as Kacchan tended to scare most people off, but, maybe, if they both passed the test—.

A large hand fell onto her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Hanabi immediately froze, shrinking in on herself as she turned to look up at the boy who'd shouted at her and Kacchan in the auditorium. His blue eyes pierced through her soul from behind his glasses.

"What are you planning to do?" He asked sternly. "Was that display in the auditorium not enough? Do you need to sabotage others here, as well?"

What?

"Excuse me," she said, brushing off his hand in a move which channeled her inner Kacchan. "The only person making a display here is you. I'm going to wish my friend luck. What's your excuse for stopping someone you don't know and leveling baseless accusations right before an exam this important?"

He seemed surprised by her response, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Something in his expression firmed, but Present Mic's _GO_ interrupted him before he could speak.

Hanabi turned away from the boy and ran headlong into the—probably expensive—fake city. If she weren't immediately surrounded by robots, she might have marveled at the obscenity of it. Instead, she conjured up a flame and spun into a pirouette, her ribbon of fire melting through the metal of her opponents with more ease than she'd anticipated. What were they made of that her basic flame coud cut through them like that?

Or, was her basic flame hotter than she thought?

Hmm.

A question for another time.

She rushed through the city streets, carefully trying to avoid crowds of people so she could use her quirk freely. She had four points, then six, ten!

So far, so good.

Someone shouted to her left, and she turned down an alley just in time to see a robot crash into a wall and almost onto another student. Mind blank, she ran forward and dove, shoving the taller boy out of the way as her flames erupted behind them to burn away any rubble before it could hit them. They landed with a shared 'oof', and Hanabi pushed herself up from his chest.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up at her with wide purple eyes, a strange light growing within them before he pushed her off him. "Don't touch me!"

Ah, so the light was panic. She could feel her own rising up within her, a hand instinctively rising to brush against the words on her collarbone, exposed by her tank top. His eyes followed the motion, his face twisting as he read them, pale purple brows rising.

"Sorry," she said as she leapt to her feet, desperate to be anywhere but there. "I, ah, I'll leave you to it, then. G-good luck!"

He might have called out to her as she ran away—yes, she wasn't too proud to admit it—but she kept on running. Now was not the time to dwell on soulmates and words. No, now was the time to melt robots. Robots now, soulmates later.

She stumbled out onto a main road and was almost trampled by students all running the same direction. Turning, her knees went weak in the face of the zero pointer. It was absolutely massive, and she was absolutely certain that Kacchan was going to take his down.

"Watch out, there's someone trapped down there!"

What?

Sure enough, there was the girl from that morning, trapped under rubble. If her quirk was what Hanabi thought it was, that alone wouldn't be enough to hold her down. No, something was wrong.

Mind racing, she ran toward the girl, bumping into fleeing examinees as she went. How to save her, how to save her, how to—?

"You!" She grabbed a fistful of fabric as the antagonistic boy from before sped past her, engines in his legs boosting his speed. His momentum pulled her back, but he stopped before he could start dragging her. "I need your help! Can you get my friend out from under the rubble while I stall the robot?"

His surly expression melted into one of determination as he followed her pointing finger to where the girl struggled to free herself. "Of course!" Then he sped away.

Right. Now to stall the robot.

Looking at it, it was a terrifying construct. However, it was designed only to terrify, not for combat like its smaller counterparts. So, theoretically, it should actually be easier to bring down. Right?

Right.

Hanabi ran past where the boy was removing rubble from the girl, eyes trained on the conveyor belts which carried it steadily forward. Calling forth her flames, she sent them on ahead of her and into the wheel wells, melting through the rubber and stopping the robot in its tracks. Cheers went up behind her, but creaking metal drowned them out.

Shit! She'd forgotten about momentum.

With the wheels out of commission, the rest of the robot went careening forward, its long shadow overtaking the other students and sending them fleeing once again.

Shit!

Biting her lip, she called on her flames and sent them up, up, up, burning hotter as they went. She had to start melting from the top so the molten metal wouldn't drip onto anyone, and she had to do it fast enough to keep the robot from landing on anyone. The momentum of its fall would likely drive the two halves of the robot away from each other, leaving the road in front of it clear and the students safe from harm.

Hopefully. If she was fast enough.

She had to be fast enough.

* * *

Hanabi opened her eyes to a grey ceiling and a curtain around her bed. She sat up, a thin blanket falling to her waist.

"Tch, it's about damned time." Kacchan was sitting in a chair beside her bed, arms crossed over his chest and his leg bouncing in agitation. "What the fuck did you do?"

She groaned and fell back onto the flat pillow. "I melted the zero pointer."

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"It was that or let it run someone over."

"Tch, they would have stopped it before that."

"Maybe," she agreed, chagrined. Then, "Kacchan?"

"What?"

"I met him. He was there, in the exam."

…

"Well, shit, Hana. What're you gonna do about it?"

She shook her head, laying an arm over her eyes. "I don't know. Probably nothing. It's not like I know his name, or anything."

"Tch," she heard him shift in his seat. "Well, if he's worth it, he'll be here when the term starts. What's he look like?"

Her memory was a bit blurred, but, "Purple."

"Pfft, the fuck? Purple?"

"Shut up," she said without heat. "He'd purple like I'm green."

"I hate how that makes sense."

She chuckled and slapped at him weakly. "Shut up."

She sat back up and made to stand, reaching out for Kacchan's support when her vision swam. Damn. Quirk overuse. She'd have to take it easy for a bit before she could use her quirk at full power again. Heat stroke was no joke.

"So," Kacchan said as she tugged on her shoes. "You still applying to Shittetsu?"

Ugh. "Kacchan, please. And why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "Well, if your soulmate's applying here, then you'll probably see him here."

He had a point…

"I'll still apply," she said as a little old woman with a cane came into the room. "I told my dad I'd apply to Yuuei, but I don't think actually attending would be a good idea."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Shouto is coming to Yuuei."

Her best friend scowled, crossing his arms over his chest again with a huff. "That half and half fucker. What's he got to do with anything? Just do what you want, Hana; it's none of his business."

Again, he had a point…

"I'll think about it," she said as the old woman—Recovery Girl!—placed a few gummies in her hand. "After Shiketsu."

"Tch, whatever, bitch, let's just go home."


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is pathetic, you guys, I'm so sorry. I struggled so hard with Inasa's pov, and I thought about skipping the Shiketsu exam altogether. I managed to stop myself, but this wimpy chapter is all I have to show for it. Hopefully the Shouto pov chapter coming up next will be enough to earn your forgiveness.**

* * *

Shiketsu's entrance exam was…

EXHILERATING!

Yoarashi Inasa felt his grin widen as he used his quirk to knock an entire wave of the human sized robots off their feet and several yards back. This was so much more fun than the recommended exam at Yuuei.

Ah, now he was mad. He was scowling and everything.

He shook his head to clear it of the horrid memory, focusing on the here and now. The Shiketsu entrance exam consisted of three phases: written, combat, and stealth. The written exam had been a bit on the hard side, but that was to be expected of one of the top schools in Japan. This combat exam was actually pretty fun! The applicants had been divided into teams of five and assigned to defend different areas from wave after wave of robots. Inasa had immediately volunteered to protect the perimeter, eager to put his quirk to use.

To his delight, the robots proved a little hardier than they appeared, with several of them taking more than one attack before going down. Of course, they weren't so tough that they challenged him. Not really. He itched to chase the robots down to their source and just wipe them out, maybe take down a giant mother robot while he was at it. That would be so awesome!

But no! He had to protect the small, bunker like building his teammates were in. They were counting on him!

With a smile, he whipped his wind forward, launching several of the metal fiends back into—

A wall of fire!?

He watched in awe as the robots he plunged into it melted into glistening puddles of metal, burning the concrete beneath it with an audible sizzle.

"Eh, how strange."

He turned in shock to look at the speaker. She was one of his teammates, if he remembered correctly. Super short and mousy, he hadn't really paid much attention to her beyond noting her Endeavor merchandise with a sneer. Now, with a head of flames not at all dissimilar to the Flame Hero, himself, he realized there was probably a reason for it.

"Are these robots made from a different metal than the ones at Yuuei? That could be why they melt so easily. Or is it because they're smaller so it's easier to heat them uniformly? That would make sense. Or, could it be…?"

She was mumbling, her chin grasped in one of her tiny hands as she glared thoughtfully at the steaming puddles that were once their opponents. Wait, had she said—?

"You tried at Yuuei?" He asked excitedly. "What was it like? Did they use robots, too?"

Maybe he should have taken the normal exam. Maybe then he wouldn't have met _him_.

The girl looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with the light of her flames. "Eh? O-h, yeah, th-they did."

He stepped forward, his excitement getting the better of him. "What was it like? Were there more? How big were they? Did they have teams? What—?"

!

He flung his arm out, using his wind to throw the oncoming robot back. Only, instead of flying away like all the others, this one erupted into flames, the heat of them scorching the hair on his arms as he raised them in defense.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The flames were gone in an instant, as if they'd never been. The robots were, too.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just used my quirk like that," the girl was saying, the flames in her hair also extinguished, revealing bouncy green curls. She looked up at him with watery green eyes as she spoke, her words running together faster than Inasa could hear, though he did catch a few things like 'quirk compatibility' and a million apologies.

"That was amazing," he said, grasping her hands in his mostly in excitement but also partly to stop her from wringing them. "My wind fueled your flames and created a passionate maelstrom no robot could hope to escape! This is so _exciting!_"

Inasa turned to look at the oncoming wave of robots, grinning so wide it hurt. "Do you think we could take all of them out, together?"

She looked up at him with green eyes, surprise written clearly on her face. "E-eh? What do you mean?"

Inasa pumped his fist. "With our quirks combined, it should be easy to form a solid perimeter and keep all the robots away. Think about it! We could totally be a hero team!"

He was already imagining their pro careers. With quirks like theirs, they would soar to the top of the charts in no time! They could easily defeat Endeavor and his no good son in any ranking contest! That would show them.

"A-ah! Watch out!"

A metal fist connected with his back, sending him stumbling forward. The heat of flames rose up behind him, and he whirled to face a robot reaching through the fires toward him. This one was clearly made of tougher stuff than its fallen comrades, merely glowing where they had melted. His partner squared her stance.

"Ne, how much control do you have over that wind?"

Inasa grinned. "How much do you need?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Tada! Hopefully this makes up for my failure with Inasa.**

* * *

The hospital was a dreary place. The walls, furniture, and people were all a sterile white. The shallow din of the intercom and hushed conversations made it so easy to slip into his own mind, to forget why he was there.

What he still couldn't do.

Todoroki Shouto sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. The seats in the hospital lobby were as uncomfortable as ever, digging into his back like a painful reminder of his own failure.

She was right there. Ten, maybe fifteen steps and he'd be there, speaking to her, just like his sister.

Something ugly twisted in his gut, darkening his expression. He could just see it, the look of hatred on her face when she poured the water over him. Would she wear it again? If he opened the door to her room, would her fairy like features morph into the beast of his nightmares? Or, even worse, would they not?

"Sh-shouto-kun?"

His eyes snapped open—when had he closed them?—and he glared up at Midoriya Hanabi. She flinched under the force of it, green eyes lowering as she bit at her bottom lip. She was dressed in what must have been her school uniform, the black and red clashing horribly with the green of her hair.

What was she doing at the hospital—_her_ hospital?

"U-um," she stammered, voice weak and reedy. "I'm sorry. I-I know you don't like me very much—and it's perfectly understandable, really!—but I was wondering if you could d-do me a favor." She trailed off, voice raising in pitch even as it lost volume. She looked everywhere but at his face, wringing her hands almost painfully fast.

"Please!" She began again before he could speak. "I'll never ask you for anything again. This is…I promise it's important, or I wouldn't have asked."

She did look at him then, round green eyes wide and imploring.

"What do you want?"

She brightened immediately, a wide smile crossing her face, revealing dimples in the same place as his fathers'.

"Oh, thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me. I promise, I'll never bother you again."

"_What do you want?_"

She blinked owlishly at his repetition. "O-oh, um, I j-just need you to p-pretend to be m-my friend." She began waving her hands furiously in response to his scowl. "It's only for a l-little bit, I swear!" She held up her hand, pinky extended.

Shouto looked at her hand, noting the delicate web of scarring that laced her fingers. They looked like his father's hands.

He pushed himself onto his feet with a growl, ignoring her yelp of surprise. "Just get it over with."

She nodded vigorously, quickly leading him down a corridor he was all too familiar with. His gaze lingered on his mother's door as they passed it, hyper aware of Fuyumi's voice on the other side. Had she mentioned him? Did his mother know he was there, lingering outside? Did it upset her?

Did it please her?

Midoriya paused in front of a room several doors down from _her's_, hand hovering over the handle. Shouto watched as she took in a steadying breath and secured a smile in place before opening the door.

"Hey, mom! How are you, today?"

Shouto followed her in dazedly, gaze trained on the figure in the hospital bed. This was the woman who had seduced his father. This woman had born a child only six months younger than him. This woman was the reason his father drove his mother to the brink, the reason for all the harsh training sessions, the reason his family was broken.

This woman was dying.

It was obvious. Her hair, the same shade of green as her daughter's, hung limply around a gaunt face, sunken green eyes looking back at him with surprise. Her skin was pale and paper thin, the blue of veins visible even to Shouto's half blinded eyes. She was too thin, and he could swear he heard her bones clinking against each other as she moved. The beeping chorus of machines was the only sound in the room for what felt like eternity, until the woman smiled at him, the expression bringing life to an otherwise haunting face.

"Oh, you look just like Rei."

His breath caught in his throat, threatening to suffocate him.

"Mama, this is Shouto, my b-brother," Midoriya stumbled over the word. "I thought you might want to meet him."

Her mother turned soft eyes on her, and Shouto almost took the opportunity to bolt from the room.

"Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're getting along."

His fist clenched by his side, and he made no move to either sit or leave.

"I-I got my letter from Yuuei," she rummaged through a yellow schoolbag. "I thought you m-might want to open it with me."

The older woman smiled radiantly, tears welling in her eyes. "Hana, that's so sweet of you."

"You applied to Yuuei?"

Midoriya looked up at him in surprise, and he realized he was the one who asked. She ducked her head sheepishly.

"Y-yeah. It's always b-been a dream of mine, s-so…" She trailed off with an awkward laugh.

That…made sense. Yuuei was the best hero school in the country, after all. He really shouldn't have been so surprised.

"D-did you apply, too, Shouto-kun?"

"Hn."

The woman's smile became sly. "I'll bet Enji recommended you, didn't he? Can't risk his legacy failing the exam, right?"

Shouto's eyes widened involuntarily and Midoriya gasped.

"Mama!"

Her mother laughed wetly. "Oh, hush, Hana. I know what kind of man your father is. He may be on his best behavior around you—which I appreciate—but his ambition has always taken center stage. It's one of the reasons why I left him." She turned too sharp eyes on Shouto, unwavering gaze lingering on his scar. "Something tells me Shouto knows that, don't you sweetie."

Shouto didn't answer, his voice stuck behind his teeth.

"Mama, you can't just day things like that!"

She sighed wearily, leaning back into the thin pillows of her hospital bed. "Of course, Hana, you're right. I'm sorry, Shouto. It seems I've come to a place where I no longer care about the consequences of my actions. Please, sit."

He hesitated, but took a seat beside Midoriya. His head was…fuzzy. This woman _knew_ what kind of man his father was, spoke of it casually. Shouto's shoulders were tense and he just barely resisted the urge to look behind him for his father. If he heard what she was saying, he'd—

What? What could he possible do to her? Even if she wasn't his soulmate, she was still the mother of his youngest child.

Still dying.

Perhaps, that was why she was speaking do freely. She really didn't care about the consequences anymore.

"I am here as a projection!"

All Might's voice broke his reverie violently, and he looked over to the floating projection of his favorite hero. It was coming from a small, metal disk in Midoriya's hand, and she looked just as surprised as he was.

"Congratulations, Midoriya-shoujo! You scored best on the written exam with a solid 98%!" Oh, he hadn't expected that. "Unfortunately, your practical score of 18 points was not enough to pass." She slumped almost comically in her seat, an air of depression overtaking her. Was the normal exam that difficult? Surely someone with his father's quirk would be able to pass, right? "Or, it wouldn't be, if defeating villains was the only thing heroes did. Midoriya-shoujo, I am happy to say that your selfless actions in the face of danger have awarded you 60 rescue points!" A chart appeared in the hologram and All Might pointed to her name, sitting squarely at number two. Ah, that made more sense. "Very well done, my girl! I look forward to teaching you in the hero course!"

What.

"E-eh!? All Might is teaching at Yuuei?"


	9. Chapter 9

**This is just a whole bunch of exposition. Sorry about that. **

**Endeavor remains OOC. surprise.**

**I'm trying to figure out Hanabi's hero costume. Any suggestions?**

* * *

"Absolutely not!"

Bakugou Mitsuki scowled darkly at the man sitting across from her, leg bouncing in agitation. He was scowling just as deeply, the expression oddly tame without his signature flaming beard. They were tucked away in a private booth in one of Musutafu's higher end restaurants. She was surprised to receive an invitation from someone claiming to represent little Hanabi's father—a man she'd always wondered about but had never asked after—but she agreed to meet with him, anyway.

Obviously, she hadn't expected to see Endeavor, the Number Two Hero, in business casual, but a small part of her had to admit it made a certain amount of sense.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps straining the starched material of his rolled-up sleeves.

"Hanabi's quirk is inherently destructive. My home has been professionally fireproofed, and has training facilities where she can use her quirk without restraint. Living there is in her best interest."

Mitsuki sneered. "My kid has explosive _sweat_, Todoroki-san, and a temper to match. Besides, Hanabi has been staying with me for some time, now, and her quirk has never been an issue."

He quirked an eyebrow, the expression a perfect mirror for the one his daughter—she still hadn't come to terms with that—wore during some of Katsuki's more…eloquent rants.

"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me. I would like to compensate you for taking care of Hanabi all this time, as well as for the payments you made toward Inko's treatment," he pulled out a checkbook and a fancy looking pen. "What sounds like a good number?"

Mitsuki floundered for all of a moment. "Now, wait just a second! I didn't do any of that for _compensation—_!"

"I know," he interjected, scribbling something onto the check before tearing it free. "That's why I'm giving it to you." His pale blue eyes bored into hers with an intensity she recognized. "I don't know how much Inko has told you, but I take my responsibilities seriously. Hanabi is my child. I have the means to care for her, so I will. End of discussion."

He reached across the table, check gripped loosely between his fingers. Mitsuki eyed the paper.

"Y'know, Todoroki-san, I'm not going to change my mind just because you pay me."

Something like a smile lit up his face, revealing a set of dimples just like his daughter's. "I didn't expect you to."

"Good, because I still think she shouldn't move in with you." She said with a flippancy she didn't really feel as she swiped the check from his hand. She took a cursory glance at it and—

Holy shit.

"You can't be serious," her voice wavered. "This is way too much."

He shrugged. "Is it? I'd gladly pay more, if I thought you would let me. Hanabi is worth more than I could ever pay."

Mitsuki bit her tongue. Damn. There wasn't anything she could say to that.

As if sensing her struggle—or maybe it was written on her face—he really did smile. "If it bothers you that much, just set it aside for your own child. If his quirk is as destructive as you claim, I imagine it would be useful for damage fees."

Well, yeah. Having someone else say it rankled, though.

"Tch," she took a sip of her now cold tea to conceal her irritation. "That's very generous of you."

He hummed noncommittally before leaning forward on the table, his voice low. "I understand your misgivings, Bakugou-san. I know I haven't been much of a fixture in Hanabi's life, but that wasn't my fault. Had I known about her, I would have done everything in my power to involve myself. I can understand why Inko kept us apart, but it was Hanabi who sought me out. She has already decided that I am someone she wants in her life. I'm also fairly certain my other children have already managed to insert themselves into the situation, so you shouldn't be worried about them," he added, looking annoyed.

She had worried, actually, and it was nice to have those concerns assuaged. However…

"You're a public figure, Todoroki-san." She met his gaze head on. "Can you look me in the eye and promise that Hanabi won't be exposed to the worst the press has to offer? That someone out there won't ferret out the truth of your relationship and make her life hell for it? Were you planning on going public as her father? Have you considered the scandal that would cause? That sort of thing will follow her for the rest of her life, never mind her hero career. Is that something you're willing to risk? If you're serious about taking up your role as her father, then you need to know that she really doesn't deal with attention well. She's more likely to self-destruct than adapt when confronted with too much too quickly. While I'm completely for you developing a relationship with your daughter, please understand that my primary concern is for Hanabi, and I just don't see moving in with you being good for her in any way, shape, or form."

She took another sip, quite satisfied with her impromptu speech. She would probably look back on it later and see all the ways she could have improved it, but, for now, she was satisfied.

"I see," he said at long last, leaning back in his seat with a thoughtful expression. "I will admit to looking into her records, so to say I was ignorant of her…troubles with anxiety would be a lie. However, I have yet to see much of it myself."

Mitsuki sighed. "Yeah, she does really well in one on one situations. It's crowds that get to her. She wasn't exactly a popular kid, y'know. She's had a few experiences with bullying that have made her hypersensitive to how people perceive her, and the more people looking at her the worse she feels. She's a good girl—pretty, smart, strong quirk—but her confidence has always been a bit of an issue." She smiled wryly. "Even with Katsuki, she's sometimes afraid he'll start hating her over something or other. I can only imagine that fear will be magnified with you."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm _saying_ that, if you ask her, she'll go right ahead and move in. She'll smile through her pain and never let on that she's suffering, doing everything she can to make sure you don't worry about her. Just like her mother."

The silence that sprung up between them was a vicious thing, biting at both of their hearts in ways neither cared to acknowledge.

Mitsuki sighed again, pressing her fingers to her temple. "Look, if you're dead set on having her in your house, then I suggest you wait. At least until after the Sport's Festival. She'll have a bit more experience with outside attention by then, and you'll have at least some of an excuse to interact with her publicly. It will also give her time to adjust. From what you've told me, she's known about you for a while, now, but she hasn't had to deal with _you_ knowing about _her._ And your other children. This relationship is as new for her as it is for all of you, and Hanabi's the kind of person who removes herself from the world until she can face whatever's bothering her. If she's in the same house, that'll be harder for her to do."

He huffed derisively. "These feel like things I should already know."

She smiled up at him sympathetically. "I've been really long winded, huh? Don't worry. I'm sure you'll eventually know things I don't."

He hummed in response, his face blank but his eyes roiling and far away. Mitsuki took advantage of his distraction to really look at him. Now that her shock had worn off—her anger had played a big part in that—she could see past Endeavor to Todoroki Enji. It was strange. Like looking at a genderbent Hanabi. Their eyebrows were the same. They had the same dimples and, if she squinted, she could pick out a few faded freckles on his face and arms. For as long as she'd known them, Mitsuki had considered Hanabi a little clone of Inko, but, with her father sitting right in front of her, their differences had never been clearer.

Still, he was kind of a jerk.

He snapped out of his reverie, looking down at his watch and getting to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Bakugou-san. You've given me a lot to think about."

Mitsuki took his offered hand and shook it with fervor. "You should come by for dinner, sometime. I'm sure Hanabi will be glad for the buffer."

His smile was not kind. "Maybe."


	10. Chapter 10

**It's been a while, I know. In my defense, I had this whole thing written up from All Might's POV, but then I realized _that part_ wouldn't work without Kirishima. You'll see when you get there.**

* * *

Yagi Toshinori coughed into his hand, trying desperately to keep the noise down in the train compartment. Perhaps he should have taken Tsukauchi's advice and gotten an apartment closer to the school. Then, he wouldn't have to subject himself to such indignity.

Ah, but he still had his pride.

The train came to a smooth stop and passenger began flowing out onto the platform. Toshinori stumbled as he stepped out, his foot catching in the gap between platform and train. He fell forward, the floor rushing up at him with increasing speed.

So much for his pride.

"Oh, watch out! I've got you!"

A pair of strong hands caught him by the elbow, steadying him until he got his feet back under him. As he straightened, Toshinori found himself looking down at a head of bright red hair and a pair of concerned, equally red eyes.

"Oh, man, are you ok?" The young man said through strikingly sharp teeth. "Do you need to sit down?"

Toshinori raised his hands. "Ah, no need my boy, I—."

He hid his face in the crook of his free arm, hoping the blood wouldn't stain his suit.

"U-um," another voice interjected. "Would this h-help?"

He looked up to see a neatly folded handkerchief presented by two small hands. A young lady stood at his other side now, worried green eyes regarding him from below equally green curls.

Were all the youth so color coordinated these days?

"Thank you, my dear," he said with a smile. "That's very kind of you."

"Please," the boy said. "Let us help you off the platform, at least."

Well, he supposed it wouldn't hurt…

It was only once he was seated on a bench that he realized something.

"Oh, are you both Yuuei students, perhaps?"

They looked at each other in surprise, as if they, too, had only just noticed their matching uniforms.

"Woah, no way!" The boy smiled wide and pumped his fist in excitement. "Man, what are the odds? I'm Kirishima Eijirou, Class 1-A, Hero Course!"

The girl was more subdued, a pretty flush bringing out her freckles. "U-um, Midoriya Hanabi, Class 1-A."

"No way!"

Toshinori watched with some amusement as the young man bounced exuberantly. So, these were two of his students. A warm fuzzy feeling welled up in his chest and for a moment he feared he would begin coughing again.

"Ah!" The boy—Kirishima—exclaimed. "Sorry, sir, but we've got to go! Can't be late on our first day, right?"

Midoriya squeaked out an affirmative and before Toshinori could even blink, they had vanished into the subway crowd. He sat for a moment longer before forcing himself to his feet.

He probably shouldn't be late on his first day, either

**Break**

Kirishima Eijirou smiled widely down at his new classmate, an expression she tumultuously returned. Man, what were the odds of running into someone else from 1-A? Oh, man, what if they took the same train every day? Did he already have a new friend?

Sweet!

"So, Midoriya," he said—was it too casual? Oh, man, he was _way_ too casual. "What middle school did you got to?"

"Eh? Oh, um, Aldera, in Musutafu." Her green eyes looked at everything but him and he was abruptly reminded of the self he swore to leave behind. "H-how about you?"

He pumped his fist, acutely aware of how she flinched away from the abrupt movement. "I went to Besupino in Urayasu! One of my old classmates got into 1-A, too! And you? Any of your friends coming here?" He elaborated at her confused expression.

"Oh! Um, yes. M-my friend is in our class, too."

"Sweet! That's so awesome! Going to a new school is scary enough, but Yuuei is even worse! It's nice having someone I know there, you know?"

She seemed to appreciate his softer tone of voice, if the small smile on her face was any indication. "Un, it is."

The hallways were crowded with first years trying to find their classes, making the massive school look like a pack of sardines.

"Oh, geeze, how the heck are we supposed to figure this out?" He scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to figure out which of the many hallways held their classroom. A tug on his sleeve caught his attention. "Hm? What is it, Midoriya?"

"U-um," she pulled something from the side pocket of her yellow backpack. "I have a m-map."

Kirishima smiled widely. "Wow, Midoriya, you sure are prepared! Which way do we go?"

It took some coaxing, but eventually she managed to point out the way to their classroom. He happily provided a buffer between the shy girl and the crowd, using his greater size to shield her from any incoming elbows or stray backpacks. He absently wondered what kind of quirk she had. Usually, personalities and quirks were reflections of each other. There were exceptions, of course—he was one, himself—but all his life he'd heard grown ups using their children's quirks as excuses for their behavior.

Ah! "Look, 1-A!" He trotted up to the door, bouncing from foot to foot in excitement. He could hear voices inside. "Come on, Midoriya!"

She shuffled up behind him, already shrinking in on herself. She probably didn't want to be the center of attention as they walked in. Well, that was fine. He could take the spotlight for her.

Sliding the door open with a face splitting grin. "Good morning fellow classmates!"

"Kiri!" Mina launched herself onto him, wrapping her bubblegum arms around his neck. "What took you so long?"

"I made a friend on the train," he said in a quieter voice, looking to see if their seats had been assigned. "She's really nice!"

Speaking of Midoriya.

"Oi, Hana, what took you so long? You missed the fucking train!"

Tiny little Midoriya was being berated by a prickly blond with a loud and foul mouth. She said something Kirishima couldn't hear, and then the blond was leveling searing red eyes on him.

"Ha? Who the fuck are you?"

Oh, no. No way. This guy? Now? Today? How? Why? What could he possibly say to that? What was he supposed to say? Be cool, Kiri, be cool!

"Your soulmate, apparently."

Gah! That wasn't cool, at all!

The blond's expression twisted into something between shock and rage while Midoriya visibly struggled to contain her laughter. She pulled out her phone.

"Kirishima-kun, smile for me!"

Huh?

Before he could comply, she took a picture with the flash on. "Auntie's gonna have a riot."

"What the shit, bitch? Don't you dare send that to the hag!"

"Too late!"

As he watched his new friend run away from his soulmate—aaaaaaaaah!—it belatedly occurred to him that he must be the friend she was talking about.

Oh, cool. If he was friends with a shy sweetheart like Midoriya, then he couldn't be too bad, right?

Right?


	11. Chapter 11

**To make up for my long absence, here's another chapter! Hot off the press!**

* * *

Aizawa Shouta stood down the hall from his classroom, watching as his students filed in. They were a loud bunch, but that came as no surprise. The screaming curses _were_, however.

This semester was going to be hell.

Maybe he could expel the screamer. That would be nice.

With that thought in mind, he approached the classroom.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by typical teenage chaos. Someone found their soulmate on the first day, whoopee. All of the children were intent on watching the drama unfold before them, so none of them noticed him enter the room. He sighed.

"That's enough of that." The kids all turned to look at him with startled expressions. "You two," the newfound soulmates shrunk under his glare—well, the red one did. "I expect you won't make this an issue."

"Tch," the blond one sank into his seat, slouching like the cool cat he thought he was. "Whatever."

Great. One of those.

He waited until everyone was in their seats and quiet. "It took you an entire minute to settle down. That's unacceptable." A few of them had the grace to look ashamed. "I assume all of you have your gym uniforms, yes? Good, 'cause we're going outside. Get dressed and meet me on the field."

He turned to leave, but a politely raised hand caught his attention. "Hm?"

"U-um, excuse me, Sensei," the green child began. "M-may I ask why w-we're going outside?"

Geeze, one of _those_. That was almost worse than the brat. "Quirk assessment."

That set the chatters off, again, and he quickly made his escape. Once out on the field, he quickly ran through his roster, making note of the quirks we could expect to see.

Explosion, Rock, Invisibility—a good stealth quirk—Anivoice, Pyrokinesis, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah.

Ugh. He needed a raise.

A couple of hero family kids were in his class, because _of course_ they were. Vlad was going to give him hell over this, he just knew it.

Oh? It looked like two of his students had the same legal guardian and emergency contacts. Siblings?

No. It was the blond brat and the stuttering broccoli girl. Hmm, interesting. He'd have a look at their files—later, when they weren't walking up to him. Shutting the binder, he looked the kids over.

"I never got to thank you for what you did during the entrance exam," a brown haired girl was telling the green one. "It really meant a lot to me."

"Indeed," the Iida child pontificated, arms chopping robotically at the air. "I did not realize there was another level to the exam. To have seen through it—."

"I didn't do it for the points." Oh? So she did have a backbone. Interesting. "I did it because it was the right thing to do."

She left her two stunned classmates behind and went to stand beside her blond buddy. His redheaded soulmate smiled widely down at her.

Ok, Aizawa, that's enough eavesdropping for one day.

"Bakugou Katsuki," he called out, not at all surprised when the brat quirked an eyebrow at him. "Come stand in this circle."

The teenager complied, no questions asked.

"Do you remember what your top score was for the ball throw in middle school?"

The kid sucked on his teeth before answering. "Around sixty-four meters. Why?"

Aizawa tossed him a baseball. "Throw it using your quirk."

"Ha? You serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

The brat grinned wildly as he wound up and threw the ball, propelling it with a massive explosion and a "DIE!"

That was concerning.

Aizawa ignored the impressed chatter behind him and waited for the ball to hit ground. He held up the device in his hands for Bakugou to see. "Seven hundred and five meters. You have all been limited in your quirk use before this," he said, turning to the rest of his class. "But this is a hero school where we will endeavor to teach how to use your quirks for good. You'll be undergoing a physical assessment, just like the ones you had in middle school, only, this time, you'll use your quirks. I expect you to give it your all."

"This sounds like fun," the brown haired girl said to the frog one. "I can't wait to see what I can really do!"

"Fun?" The class went silent. "You think you're here for fun? Very well, let's up the stakes. Whichever one of you has the lowest total score at the end of this will be immediately expelled."

"Eh?"

"No way! Can he do that?"

"I can and I will. I refuse to waste my time on fools with no potential. Now," he plastered a smile on his face. "Let's begin."

With a fire sufficiently lit underneath them, they gave their all in the subsequent exams. All according to plan.

Except for that infernal yellow head peaking around the corner, of course, but that could be dealt with later.

As expected, the invisible girl struggled. Her quirk had incredible potential, though, and he could tell she was doing her best. A lot of the kids were just physically fit, and relied on that for some of the challenges unsuited for their quirks. There were a few, though…

He sighed. He should have known Endeavor's kid would be a bundle of issues. That man was unpleasant on his good days. The boy's file state fire and ice as components of his quirk, but so far Aizawa had only seen ice. It worked, no doubt about it, but intentionally limiting himself like that could lead to injury or worse. He'd have to work with him on that.

The broccoli girl was a surprise. Her use of her pyrokinesis was subtle and inspired, never excessive or a threat to the other students and always extinguished when no longer needed. She clearly had incredible control of her element. As he watched her use it to propel herself for the long jump, he noticed the way she landed, poised and on her toes. A gymnast? Bakugou landed similarly, and he had to wonder what kind of outside training this dynamic duo had undergone before this.

Maybe a class wide survey would be in order?

As he announced the results, he watched the little grape boy shake in fear. He had the lowest overall score, but those grape…things had decent potential for capture and restraint.

He painted on a smile. "I lied. No one will be expelled today."

"Eh?"

"What the heck?"

"It was a logical ruse," he said, turning away from the line of students. "Meant to inspire you to do you best—and you did. I'll see you lot in class."

The children dispersed, and Aizawa made a beeline for All Might.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked without preamble. "Don't you have better things to do?"

The tall man rubbed the back of his head with a skeletal hand. "Aha, well, you see, I just wanted to see how you handled the class. I am new to this, as you know, Aizawa-kun, so I thought I might watch a senior teacher before taking on the mantle, myself." The thought of being senior to _All Might_ in anything made Aizawa shudder. "They will also be my first class, so I wanted to get an idea of their quirks beforehand."

That made sense. He didn't have to like it, though.

"Oh, mister, what are you doing here?"

Aizawa turned to see the red headed rock boy walking up to them with a smile.

"A-ah, Kirishima-shounen, I, um, I am—."

"Yagi-san is a member of faculty here at Yuuei," Aizawa interjected, already done with the conversation. "You should be changing."

"Right, Aizawa-sensei. I'm glad you're feeling better, Yagi-san! I'll be sure to tell Midoriya I saw you!"

The taller man raised a hand in a limp wave as the exuberant boy ran off to join his classmates.

"You know him?"

All Might began coughing into the elbow of his ill fitting suit. "Ah, yes. We met this morning, at the train station. He and Midoriya-shoujo helped me out of a tight spot."

Hmm. Yes, a survey was definitely in order.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry this took forever. I'd give you an excuse, but I know some of you also read Shinobi Isekai, so I won't bother. I'm bad mother playing favorites with her children.**

**On that note, having a Hanabi here and a Hanako there is really confusing. My fingers don't know what to type. T_T**

* * *

Hanabi looked down at the bulky silver briefcase with trepidation. Her female classmates were already changing into their costumes, chatting amicably about the fit and style, what they liked and which alterations they would request. Hanabi had no idea what awaited her in the case. She'd provided only a written description of what she absolutely needed and a few things she would like to see. Granted, it was three pages long, but she was fairly certain she'd left the designers a lot of creative freedom. Her Uncle Masaru had even looked it over for her before she turned it in, assuring her that it was fine.

"Eh, Midori-chan?" The pink girl—Ashido Mina, if she remembered correctly—looked at her with wide, golden eyes. "Why haven't you changed yet? You're going to be late!"

Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on her and she shrank in on herself under their weight.

"A-ah, well, you s-see," she floundered for a proper response.

"Would you prefer to change in privacy, Midoriya-san?" Yaoyorozu Momo asked, beautiful face ever so slightly scrunched in a concerned frown. "Most of us are done, if you'd prefer we leave."

Hanabi waved her hands frantically in denial. "N-n-no! You d-don't have to! I'm just," she took a steadying breath. "I have no idea w-what it will l-look like."

Yaoyorozu's expression softened. "Oh, are you nervous? Would you rather someone else opened it for you?"

Yes! Please!

The taller girl came over to her and flipped open the clasps of the briefcase. The other girls all crowded around, eager to see the costume which filled Hanabi with so much dread. The top flipped open, revealing dark fabric. Yaoyorozu pulled it out, holding it up for everyone to see.

The body suit was mostly black, the shiny fabric accented by dark green stripes flowing down the sides, disguising discretely placed cooling vents. Also in the case were a set of green boots and gloves, their vents less disguised than those on the body suit. A black traditional hero utility belt with several green water bottles fastened to it completed the set.

Hanabi sighed gently in relief. It wasn't nearly as flashy as she'd feared, and someone had clearly taken her notes on temperature regulation seriously.

"My," Yaororozu said with a small smile. "It's not so bad. It matches your hair quite nicely."

The other girls nodded enthusiastically, clamoring for Hanabi to put it on. Blushing furiously under their stares, she quickly exchanged her uniform for the body suit, reaching over her shoulder to pull the zipper up.

"Woah! Midori-chan! You're super flexible!"

"Eh?" Hanabi turned wide eyes on her transfixed audience, arm still bent behind her head. Ah. Yeah. Most people weren't able to zip things like that, huh?

"Aha," she chuckled awkwardly. "Y-yeah."

Yaoyorozu handed her the gloves and boots, watching with a kind if slightly vapid smile as Hanabi finished putting on the costume. It fit her well, the form fitting fabric some of the other girls complained about oddly reminiscent of her ballet leotards and tights. She stood on her toes experimentally and was pleased to find the toes of her boots had been reinforced, as requested. The belt sat a little lower on her hips than she liked, but she was glad whoever had designed her costume had taken her concerns about dehydration seriously.

"It looks good," Yaoyorozu assured her and the other girls rushed to agree.

Hanabi smiled shyly, heat flushing her face. "Thanks."

The girls left the locker room in a pack, chattering excitedly as they joined the boys in a large, dark room. There was a huge screen displaying the pseudo-city from the entrance exam, the grey scale buildings illuminating the room. All Might himself stood in front of the screen, hands on his hips and his trademark smile in place. Hanabi was overcome with awe as she looked up at one of her favorite heroes, and she wasn't the only one. Everyone was hyped to have the Number One hero as their teacher—Kirishima was bouncing from one foot to the other, the dork. Kacchan's smile was wide and borderline crazed, the expression highlighted by his mask.

Pfft. He looked like a Cyndaquil.

Ah, he'd noticed her laughing.

"The fuck're you laughing at, Hana?"

She brushed off his blustering, patting him on his puffed out chest with a small smile. "Calm down, Kacchan."

He huffed and his expression stayed sour, but he didn't say anything more. He returned his gaze to All Might as the hero started speaking.

Oh. So it was _that_ kind of exercise. Hanabi waited nervously as the teams were assigned, only to stifle another laugh when Kacchan and Kirishima were paired up.

"Shut _up_, Hana!"

"Dude, chill. It _is_ a little funny."

"Tch."

Hanabi's name was called next. She looked to her partner, a boy barely taller than her with the head of a raven Named Tokoyami Fumikage. He was dressed in a dark floor length cloak, adding to his already mysterious aura. His quirk was shadow based, if she recalled correctly, a sentient emitter type. That might be a problem.

She smiled when she noticed his eyes on her. "Let's do our best!"

"Hn."

Ah. The quiet type. She could work with that.

It was better than Kacchan, at least.

His quirk manifested in a purplish shadow bird, looking down at her with glowing yellow eyes. "Yo! Let's rock this!"

Ok. A two for one deal, one quiet one loud. Cool.

Tokoyami's long suffering sigh made her smile.

Kacchan and Kirishima were called up first, serving as villains to Jirou Kyouka and Kaminari Denki's heroes.

Oh, boy. Starting with Kacchan was a little…

Much. It was a little much.

There was no way he'd leave any doubt who was the strongest student in class. His ego just wouldn't allow it. And with his soulmate standing right next to him? Yeah, no.

Sure enough, explosions immediately rocked the building on screen. The video cut to a scene inside the building, showing Jirou using the speakers in her pants in an attempt to stop a maniacal Kacchan.

"That won't work," Hanabi said under her breath.

Yaoyorozu looked at her. "What do you mean, Midoriya-san?"

"Eh?" She hadn't realized anyone had heard her. "A-ah, I mean sound based attacks won't work on Kacchan. He'll just take out his hearing aids."

The taller girl's eyebrows rose. "I wasn't aware he was hearing impaired."

Hanabi shrank under the weight of her stare. "A-ah, yeah. T-the explosions kinda…"

Understanding dawned in Yaoyorozu's eyes. "I see. That makes sense."

Kacchan was going to kill her.

But not before he killed Kaminari. The electric blond had made the mistake of trying to fry his explosive opponent, only to be blocked by Kirishima's rock body. The red head was still standing, but looked a little worse for wear. Needless to say, the fight was over rather quickly, and both Jirou and Kaminari were still conscious. Yay Kacchan.

The other fights after that were fun to watch. There were so many amazing quirks on display. Oh, how Hanabi wished she'd thought to bring a notebook. As it was, she watched every fight with a tangible intensity, determined to memorize as much as possible.

Then, it was her turn.

And Shouto's.

She chanced a glance at her older brother, swallowing thickly as he walked past her into the testing grounds, followed closely by Shouji Mezou. They were the heroes, and she had a feeling Shouto would be as merciless as their father.


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm alive! Shocker, I know, but here you go!**

* * *

Tokoyami Fumikage regarded his partner for the exercise. He was somewhat disappointed to be playing the villain, but there would likely be more opportunities to show his heroic side later on in the semester. If anything, this was a chance to put Dark Shadow's defensive abilities to use.

Midoriya Hanabi was a short girl—even s`horter than him, he was somewhat happy to note—and petite, though clearly strong. Her costume was as formfitting as many of the other girls', though not as revealing as some, the black fabric showing little but hiding nothing. She had obviously trained in some capacity, though he wasn't sure whether that training would hold any relevance outside the aptitude test. As they came to stand beside the giant makeshift bomb they were responsible for guarding, she turned large green eyes on him, furrowing her brows as she bit at her lower lip.

"Tokoyami-san, I have a plan, if you'd like to hear it. I-if you already have one, though, I-I don't mind using it, instead."

Dark Shadow came to rest just above his shoulder, looking down at them both with a wide demonic grin. "Lay it on us, Midoriya!"

Curse the thing, being so informal. That was not the way to speak with a girl who was a. already nervous, and b. practically a stranger.

"Please, tell us what you have in mind, Midoriya-san." That was how it should be done.

The girl herself didn't seem all that bothered by his quirk's…peculiarities. She smiled at them both before speaking, her stutter lessening as she gained confidence.

"U-um, Shouto-kun w-will probably use his ice to t-try and incapacitate us immediately. I c-can use my flames to try and counter him, but…will Dark Shadow be ok? With the light, I mean."

He stiffened. How had she…?

"Woah, Midoriya, how'd you figure that out?"

Curse the damned thing.

"A-ah, well," she looked a bit flustered, twirling a green curl around a finger as she looked at anything but them. "It seemed…kind of obvious? You _are_ called Dark Shadow, after all, so I just assumed…"

Obvious. His quirk's greatest weakness was obvious.

He sighed heavily as Dark Shadow crowed in mock offense. "I see. Don't worry, Dark Shadow will still be operational, regardless of the light."

She cocked her head at him, casting a concerned glance at the wildly gesticulating quirk. "If you're sure…"

"I am."

"Fumi, you traitor!"

She smiled, the expression small but there and revealing a set of dimples otherwise lost in the sea of freckles. "In that case, this is what I think we should do."

* * *

In.

Out.

In.

Shouto let out another deep breath as he waited for All Might to give the go ahead. Beside him, his partner for the exercise stood quietly. The much taller boy had tried to engage him in conversation, but quickly realized it was a lost cause. While he recognized the value of a plan, it wasn't necessary. Given what he'd seen during the aptitude test, he was sure he could overpower Midoriya's flames. They were nowhere near as powerful as their father's, and he'd been repelling those for most of his life.

Shouto suppressed a shudder as the ice coating his right side once again made itself known, sending chills through the rest of his body. The sooner he ended this, the better.

All Might's voice resounded in his earpiece and he winced. "Alright! Hero team, you may engage!"

Finally.

Shouto turned to face the building Midoriya and her teammate were hiding in, drawing in another deep breath. He stepped forward, ignoring his partner as he reached out and placed a hand on the concrete, ice flowing out fron beneathchis palm and swiftly encasing the structure.

That should be enough.

He lead the way inside the frozen building, his breath fogging. Beside him, his partner has sprouted extra ears—he successfully hid his recoil—and Shouto watched from his periphery as they swiveled.

"They're still moving. It sounds like they're one the third floor, maybe fourth."

Well, then.

It made a certain amount if sense. Midoriya's flames could counter his ice, but how effectively? What was her range? Would she be able to thaw a direct attack?

Unlikely.

He calmly climbed the stairs, refusing to let his opponent ruffle his feathers. It would be over soon.

That was what he told himself as he repeatedly clenched and clenched his right fist, the feeling slowly leeching from it.

It had to be over soon. He would end it himself.

The third floor was completely devoid of ice. Midoriya's range was greater than he'd anticipated. That was fine. His was still significantly larger.

"There's someone on the floor above us."

"Go," he replied. "I'll clear this one."

The other boy left.

Taking in another breath, Shouto released a second wave of ice. As he expected, the air was immediately filled with steam as Midoriya countered it.

Good. She was on his floor, then. The sooner he rendered her immobile the sooner the exercise would be over.

He stepped into a large room, the open space empty save for Midoriya. Her costume was practical, clearly designed to favor function over form, and suited her well. She stood in the middle of the room, radiating a heat which penetrated the layer of cold he'd wrapped himself in, taking the edge off the numbess in his limbs.

"Midoriya," he said by way of greeting. "Stand down."

She didn't answer him, raising her fists in front if her face, instead. Her stance was a bit wide, but solid. She'd clearly been trained.

But not by Endeavor.

Another step had ice rushing toward her in aggressive spikes. She drew a deep breath and blew orange flames from her mouth, reducing his attack to a sizzling puddle.

Unconventional, but not wholly unexpected.

Again, Shouto sent a wave of ice toward her, this time branching it off in a pronged attack. This, too, was summarily melted, her fire breath and residual heat stopping his ice a good meter before it hit her. Was that some kind of limit? Should he make use of it?

Ice since again rushed toward Midoriya, stopping just short of the meter limit and rising to enclose her like a frosty egg. Layer upon layer of ice stacked upon themselves, keeping Midoriya trapped inside.

"Shouji has been captured by Tokoyami!"

All Might's voice broke his concentration, but the ice held. Surely, there would be another announcement for Midoriya, soon.

Her partner would likely be coming for him, now, and Shouto sent more ice to close off the door and prevent his interference. As soon as that was done, a wave of heat hit his back. He turned, raising his left hand to defend against Midoriya's flames as they overook him. They were hotter than he expected, but not so hot he couldn't counter them. The light was blinding, ricocheting and splintering through his ice and making it hard to see. He stepped back, trying to put some distance between his face and the flames, when they abruptly died down. It their place, a fist entered his field of vision.

He dodged it easily, eyeing Midoriya warily as she sank into that wide fighting stance. She shifted her weight and he prepared himself for a kick, but was caught off guard by how quick and _high_ it was, going straight for his head despite the disparity in their heights.

Another easy dodge was accompanied by a wave of ice she quickly melted.

This was proving more difficult than anticipated. His right arm was almost completely numb, only moving out of sheer force of will at that point. Midoriya's flames took some of the edge off, but constantly producing ice negated that.

He needed to end it. Now.

As if sensing his intentions, Midoriya twirled in a high kick, her heel coming down fast toward his shoulder. He rolled away, the force of it painful against his frozen arm. He moved to get to his feet, but something lifted him off the ground. Looking down, he saw an inky black force had wrapped itself around his torso and following it lead him to Midoriya's bird headed partner, his matching quirk crowing in delight.

A gentle hand on his arm had him looking at Midoriya's freckled face as she wrapped the capture tape around him.

"Good fight," she said with a smile, sweat dripping from her curls. "That was fun!"

He was set down and he stumbled a bit, Midoriya rushing to help him. He let go of the ice coating his right side, shuddering as warm air touched his frigid skin.

"Shouto-kun, are you alright?"

Midoriya's eyes were filled with concern, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. Brushing off her arm, he forced himself not to limp as he left the building.


	14. Chapter 14

**Could I have tacked the beginning of this onto the last chapter? Yes. Should I have? Probably, yes. It would have taken me longer to update, though, and the guilt would have consumed me and then you'd have _no_ updates. So there.**

**Also tonal shift and plot progression and stuff.**  
**╮(￣ω￣;)╭**

* * *

Shouto was not sulking.

He had no reason to sulk. He was hardly the only one to fail lose the exercise, and it was only the first Heroics class of the semester. There would definitely be opportunities to—.

To what? Redeem himself? In whose eyes? Yuuei was hardly the kind of institution to be cowed by his father's wealth or place in the Rankings, si the odds if Enji hearing about Midoriya's victory were—.

Midoriya. Would she tell him? The bastard child bragging to the detriment of the legitimate heir was normal, right? It happened all the time in Fuyumi's dramas, anyway.

He certainly didn't want his father to hear her breakdown of his quirk. It wasn't anything he didn't already know, but the ease with which she explained the effects long term use of his ice had in his body after only one, ten minute encounter.

He wanted—no, _needed_—to believe she was unique in that, that no one else could tear his quirk down to its most basic components after such limited exposure. The idea that a villain might be capable of the same analysis and, more importantly, of _acting_ on it as she had—.

"Oh, man, the rumors were true!"

Shouto latched onto the distraction, looking over his bare shoulder at another boy in the locker room. The shortest of his new classmates had ripped a haphazard poster from the wall, revealing a perfectly round hole. The others, all in various states of undress, halted their conversations to watch as he bounced in place and...drooled?

"Oh, man! This is perfect! Those costumes were great, but now we can see the real deal! Yaoyorozu's ass, Hagakure's floating panties, Midoriya's thighs—!"

An explosion bounced off a layer of ice, their shared target yelping as something came through the hole and stabbed him in the eye. Shouto looked up and met Bakugou Katsuki's red glare. Something passed between them, a moment of shared understanding that ended when they both looked away.

Neither understood when Kirishima broke out into tears, calling them both manly.

* * *

Being the center of attention had never been Hanabi's strong suit.

Hanabi was used to being stared at. It was pretty normal, given her usual companion of choice, and especially so now that they both wore Yuuei uniforms. There was also the fact that her mumbling could sometimes get out of hand and attract all sorts of attention. She liked to think she'd gotten better at keeping her thoughts to herself, but her old classmates must have just grown used to her over their years together, since her new ones kept pointing it out. Her mother had the same habit of speaking her thoughts out loud, so she considered herself pretty forgiving when it came to _other_ people mumbling, too.

Of course, that was before she'd spent a week sitting in front of Mineta Minoru.

The short—so, _so_, short—boy muttered under his—heavy, _so heavy—_breath, practically panting by the end of the school day. The weight of his gaze bore down on Hanabi's back, burning her with its unwanted heat. Every time she shifted her weight, he reacted, swallowing audibly in a way that had her skin crawling. Whenever she stood, be it in the class or the cafeteria, she made sure to hold her skirt against her skin, defending against the cell phone he always seemed to have at the ready. How he managed to lie in wait when Kacchan was always with her was…she didn't want to say miracle, but some sort of power was on his side. The kind that likely needed to be exercised, but still.

Being the center of someone's attention was not at all an enjoyable experience for Hanabi, but it was manageable. The few times he'd actually touched her, Kacchan had been there, scowling down at the smaller teen with all the menace he could muster—which was a lot.

No, Hanabi didn't like being the center of Mineta's attention, but it wasn't _all_ bad. It forced her to spend more time with Kacchan, after all, which meant spending time with Kirishima which was actually pretty nice. He was sweet, and considerate, and a little shy—all things the average person would never, in a million years, pair up with Kacchan. She was glad to serve as a buffer for them as Kirishima began the arduous process of learning Kacchanese, but he seemed to be getting the hang of it fairly quickly. Auntie Mitsuki had been bugging her about getting the red headed boy over to her house for dinner, but Kacchan was too guarded for her to slip the invitation into conversation. She couldn't even ask for Kirishima's number without risking an explosion. It was with a heavy heart that she abandoned that quest and resigned herself to avoiding her Auntie until she forgot about it.

Hanabi wasn't comfortable being the center of Mineta's attention, but the moment she learned she actually wasn't, she was furious. The look on Yaoyorozu's face as the boy ran off with a lecherous grin after snagging an up the skirt photo set a fire in her heart. The tall girl smiled in that almost vapid way she had, waving off Hanabi's concerned questioning with a "that's just how he is".

Unacceptable.

"Hagakure-san," Hanabi said with a smile, her invisible classmate bouncing with joy at being addressed directly. "I need a favor. Do you think you c-can put these in all the girls' d-desks for me?"

"Ooh," she said in a stage whisper, leaning in in what Hanabi interpreted as a conspiratorial fashion as she took the white envelopes from her. "Are you planning something, Midori-chan? Is there one for me in there, too?"

Hanabi's smile widened. "Of course, Hagakure-san. You're invited, t-too."

The other girl skipped off with a "Yay!" and Hanabi settled into her desk, mind running a mile a minute as she began planning.

"The fuck was that about?"

She looked up at Kacchan, meeting his glare head on. "I don't know what you mean, Kacchan."

His face contorted and he leaned back and away from her. "Shit, bitch, don't go using your mom's lawyer voice on me like that! It's fucking creepy."

Her smile fell at the reminder of her mother, and Kacchan cursed again.

"Whatever you have planned," he growled as Kayama-sensei walked into the classroom. "Leave me out of it."

He didn't actually mean that, of course, but Hanabi nodded anyway.

After school, all seven of class 1-A's girls remained in the classroom.

"Midori-chan!" Ashido's smile was almost too big for her face. "What's going on? Are we doing some girl bonding, huh?"

"I would also like to know what you have planned," Yaoyorozu said softly. "It is unlike you to instigate something like this."

The other girls agreed and Hanabi had to stamp down the rising wave of nerves which threatened to overtake her. As it was, her stutter came back in force.

"U-um, I w-was j-just thinking," the hem of her skirt would be a wrinkled mess by the time she was done. "Th-that is, I-I—."

Again, Yaoyorozu came to her rescue. "Midoriya-san, please don't be nervous. I was very happy to see your letter in my desk."

That did not help, but thank you anyway!

Hanabi took a deep breath, closing her eyes against the crowd of girls staring at her.

"Something n-needs to be done ab-bout Mineta-san!"

There. She did it. She got a bit loud at the end, but she did it!

Whew.

She opened her eyes to find the other girls all sharing meaning laden glances. Hagakure and Ashido were both hopping mad, literally, their anger as animated as all their other emotions.

"Yes! I was just telling Yaomomo that she should report him for harassment!"

Yaoyorozu began to deny the need for action, but Uraraka interrupted.

"Eh? Has he been bothering you guys, too? He's such a little creep!"

With everyone nodding in agreement and adding their own experiences and anecdotes, Yaoyorozu's objection was forgotten.

Hanabi felt at once relieved that the others agreed with her and outraged that they all had similar experiences. Was no one supervising their class? Had none of the teachers noticed his behavior? What the hell?

"So?" Everyone turned to look at Asui, the girl's deadpan gaze set on Hanabi. "Do you have a plan, Midoriya-chan? I don't think you'd call us here if you didn't, kero."

She was right, of course.

"W-well," she began, hands once again wringing the edge of her skirt. "I thought we could file a report—together!—so the adm-ministration knows how b-bad it is. And, u-um," she looked away, not as confident about this part. "M-my sister is a t-teacher, so I thought we c-could call her and see if she kn-knows how to write one that will b-be taken s-seriously."

Hagakure clapped her hands together, her sock the only indication that she'd raised a foot in her excitement. "Ooh! That's a good idea, Midori-chan! A teacher will know how to write it just right!"

The other girls were all in agreement, even Yaoyorozu, whose thin denial had given way to genuine relief.

Good. Hopefully, the problem would be solved soon.

* * *

That night, at the Todoroki house.

"Shouto," Fuyumi said as she stepped into the living room where her youngest brother knelt at the low table doing his homework. "Want to tell me why Hanabi called me asking how to file a sexual harassment report?"

If Present Mic noticed the water damage on the essay Shouto handed in the next day, he didn't mention it.


	15. Chapter 15

Shinsou Hitoshi stared open mouthed at the teacher in front of him, the man more akin to a sleep deprived hobo than a pro-hero with rumpled clothing and exhausted eyes. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he'd been suddenly called into the teachers' lounge after school. Anxiety ate him up as he imagined all sorts of nonexistent offences, even going so far as to suspect even Yuuei didn't want a student with a quirk like his on its roster.

"Um," he said unintelligently. "Can you repeat that, sir?"

Something like amusement lit up the hero's eyes. "There's an opening in 1-A, kid; I'm asking if you want to fill it."

Holy shit.

There was no way this was actually happening. It was clearly a dream, a hallucination brought on by someone's quirk.

"You want _me_?"

1-A's homeroom teacher sighed heavily and Hitoshi began to mentally kick himself. What was he doing? He was going to lose this chance!

"That's what I said, kid. I have the paperwork here, if you want it. You'll need a guardian's signature, but if you bring this back to me by Friday you'll be all set to switch over next week."

It was really happening. The weight of the manila folder in his hands brought it all home. He was sure he should be saying something—anything—but the words lodged in his throat, leaving him gaping like a fish out of water. The shaggy haired hero snorted softly, attracting attention from his fellow teachers.

"Oh, please, Shouta," Present Mic said with a laugh. "Like you didn't make that exact face when you transferred over in second year."

Hitoshi looked at his new homeroom teacher with new eyes. If he'd transferred in, too, then maybe his quirk was like Hitoshi's?

Maybe he understood?

His parents signed the papers with little hesitation, expressing their heartfelt congratulations and promising to treat him to his favorite dinner in celebration. His new sensei—Aizawa, he'd learned—once again looked amused as he handed in the forms first thing the next morning.

"Well, then, Shinsou-kun, I suppose a welcome is in order."

Warmth filled Hitoshi at that, though there was still a small, treacherous part of him that insisted it was all a dream and the fuzzy high he was riding would come crashing down at any second. Surely there would be some catch or final test he would inevitably fail and ruin his chances at the Hero Course forever.

"There's just one thing left to do."

There it was.

He watched anxiously as Aizawa-sensei pulled out another manila folder, this one much thinner than the one with his transfer paperwork. "The Hero Course is currently working on a Hero Informatics projects. You're a little behind, but also in luck. The top group already finished their presentation and one of them volunteered to work on another one with you. Her contact information is in there, so I suggest you set something up."

Oh, was that all?

His stomach tied itself in knots at the prospect of working with a Hero student—never mind that _he_ was a Hero student, now, too. This girl had already finished one project and no one in their right mind would willingly work on _another_ presentation on the history of Civilian Defense Laws. She'd probably been roped into it by the teachers and would hate Hitoshi for the extra work.

Off to a great start, already, huh?

Maybe, he should have waited to turn in the paperwork. He spent the rest of the school day trying and failing to pay attention in his classes, the knowing looks on his teachers' faces not helping in the slightest. It was a look his parents shared as he rushed through dinner, barely even tasting his favorites before locking himself up in his room and reading through the assignment for what felt like the millionth time, his partner's information written on a sticky note on the inside of the folder in what was probably Aizawa's messy scrawl.

**Midoriya Hanabi: (XXX) XXX-XXXX**

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he glared at the phone number. Objectively, he knew it was irrational to write off the girl before even contacting her, but he couldn't help but tense as he tapped out a message on his phone, thumb hovering over _send_ for an agonizing minute before he threw caution to the wind.

**Me: **_Hey, this is Shinsou Hitoshi.  
Aizawa-sensei said you were my partner for the project?  
Thanks a bunch for working with me!_

That was fine, right? He'd used proper grammar and everything.

**(XXX) XXX-XXXX: **_Typing…_

Heart lodged in his throat, Hitoshi watched those three dots dance. He hadn't expected an immediate reply.

**(XXX) XXX-XXXX: **_Yes! Hello, Shinsou-san. Congratulations on making it into the hero course!  
_ *:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*

It was hard to tell how sincere she was over text, but the kaomoji made him smile.

**Me: **_Thanks, it still doesn't feel real, tbh.  
Did you want to meet up to talk about the project?  
I can match your schedule, since you're going out of your way for me.  
Thanks again, btw._

**(XXX) XXX-XXXX: **_Don't worry about it, I'm happy to help! (⁀ᗢ⁀)  
Does tomorrow after school work for you?_ _We should probably get started ASAP._

She wanted to get it over with, huh?

**Me:** _yeah! did you want to meet somewhere?_

* * *

The next day, he stepped into Yuuei's obscenely large—as most things associated with Yuuei were—library, climbing the stairs to the second floor and heading toward the tables next to the massive windows. It was only the second week of the semester, but there were already several upperclassmen and even some of his fellow first years hitting the books. Looking around, he picked an unoccupied table and pulled out his phone, letting Midoriya know where he was. He was still apprehensive about meeting one of his future classmates, but felt a little better about it after their text exchange. She seemed like a pretty cheerful person, if her liberal use of kaomojis was anything to go by. Did she type them out herself, or did she have one of those apps?

"U-um," someone said behind him. "A-are you Sh-Shinsou-san?"

He turned, not at all prepared to meet painfully familiar green eyes.

Holy shit.

Suddenly, he was viscerally aware of the words written on his left bicep. He'd known that girl had made it into Yuuei, had seen her striking green hair from a distance several times since the start of the semester, but had never approached her. Shame rose up inside him every time he thought of the words that must be written somewhere on her body, the words he'd spat in a panic and immediately regretted, the words that _definitely_ weren't the source of comfort and strength hers were for him.

Shit.

She was looking at him with that same, terrified expression, candy green eyes wide and distressed below furrowed brows. Her round face was absolutely smothered in freckles and she wore her curly green hair in low pigtails secured by red ribbons. She was short—much shorter than him, the top of her head _maybe_ reaching his shoulder—and the red tie of her uniform was mangled so badly, he barely recognized it as a tie, at all.

Damn it, but she was cute. Whatever—or whoever—made soulmates clearly knew what they were doing.

She was also waiting for a response. Shit.

"A-ah, yes!" Shit, they were in a library. "You're Midoriya, then?"

A flush crossed her face, making her freckles stand out even more as she nodded, looking away as she slid into the seat across from him. She folded her small, freckled hands on the table in front of her and took a breath before looking up at him with a wobbly smile.

"Th-this is a s-surprise, huh?"

He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking up at the vaulted ceiling as he tried to dispel the blush burning his face. "Yeah."

Silence. Damn. He should probably say something, right? Ah, he wasn't prepared!

"U-um," he looked at Midoriya—his _soulmate_—as she began speaking, her blush reviving under his attention. "I-I-I'm glad you m-made it. I looked for you, in th-the beginning. I w-wasn't sure I'd f-find you."

Ah. Damn. He hadn't thought she would look for him. He hadn't thought she'd want to.

"I'm sorry," he said before he could stop himself. "My words weren't—they're kinda—I'm sorry."

She looked surprised, then panicked, her hands flying up in front of her and gesticulating wildly. "Ah! N-no! Don't worry, th-they're n-n-n-n-n—." She stilled, scrunching her eyes closed and taking a deep breath before speaking with deliberate slowness. "They're n-not that bad." She wilted, holding her head in her hands. "S-sorry. I wasn't p-prepared for th-this."

Was it wrong to be glad his nerves weren't as obvious as hers? The stutter—as endearing as he found it—was probably really inconvenient for her. Damn. He had no idea how to help with that.

"Neither was I," he said with a shallow laugh, once again reaching up to rub his neck. "Did you want to talk about the project, instead?"

He tried not to be offended by the obvious relief flooded through her. "Yes, please."

"So," he began. "What possessed you to do two of these?"

She giggled nervously, twirling an errant curl around a finger as she looked at anything but him. "A-ah, well, m-my mom's a C-Civilian Defense lawyer, s-so…" She shrugged.

"Really? That's cool." He meant it. "You must like this stuff, though, if you're doing it twice."

"O-of course! It's s-super important, Shinsou-kun!" Ah, shit. Kun already? Midoriya continued, seemingly oblivious to the flush rising on his face. "As heroes, w-we need to be aware o-of how our quirks can affect c-civilians and they're p-property! You don't want t-to get sued as a n-new hero without any m-money, do you?"

Ah, shit. There was a light in her eyes as she began listing the consequences collateral damage could have on a new hero's career. she was talking like she thought he could do it, like she didn't think he _couldn't._ Of course, she still had no idea about his quirk.

Damn.

He should probably tell her. If anyone had a right to know, it was his soulmate, right? She wouldn't ditch him over it, would she? His soulmate would understand, right? He just had to be brave.

Later. He'd be brave about his quirk later.

"Wow," he said, smiling despite his inner turmoil. "You're really passionate about this, aren't you Hanabi-chan?"

He was being brave about something else, right now.

Midoriya stared at him in wide eyed shock just long enough to make him sweat before bursting into flames. Literally. Her green hair was replaced by a writhing mass of orange fire, the ribbons going up in smoke as she pressed her hands over her mouth—to suppress her rambling? Her face was redder than a tomato and only got brighter as the other students in the library began shouting in panic or surprise. A smile spread across Hitoshi's face as he watched his soulmate sink into her chair.

He was never calling her anything else, now.


End file.
